Sleepy Fox Hollow golden threads of the craftsman's loom

coelho had nosed along the hinterlands, searching specifically for the exact hare that, as it just so happened, was haplessly clutched in the jaws of a fox, that in that exact moment, was staring at a she-wolf encamped in a rotted egress of a tree.

she had followed the trail fine enough, until the scent of hare had been lifted and replaced by fox: she could guess well what happened here; her meal had been snatched. it was tough work scouting, and the girl had been hungry.

grumbling to see her meal go, she thought she could at least practice her ability in scent-mapping and follow the fox -- right up until its path lead her to the very spot it had been spied by ginsberg. coelho was unaware of the she-wolf's presence until she glanced up and caught the harsh arc of seafoam against darkness.

like the fox, coelho froze -- yet unlike the fox, the girl did not run away.