The Sentinels see no evil, speak no evil

The soot-stockinged rogue’s smile broadened with the brightening of the beta’s mood, and she curled her plush hindquarters beneath her to sit squarely in his path. “I am happy to meet you at last, Constantine,” she said with cheerful honesty, her warm, rich alto humming with a thread of excitement. “The Bear has spoken of you.” Her coal-tipped tail swayed congenially behind her, stirring up leaf litter and loam. “Herra,” she explained, “is a word we use for males we respect. We also use it for males we do not know, sometimes — but to you, of course, I give my respect.” The sparkle in her silver gaze was as playful as it was reassuring; like her twin, Lotte was a creature of laughter and zeal. She danced forward upon large, rounded paws, her aim to touch the tip of her nose to the corner of Constantine’s mouth in homage, ears cupping respectfully against her crown as she fell back a pace or two. “In your tongue, maybe sir or lord,” she added, her argent eyes studying the dark wolf in turn with respectful interest. “Why do your wolves not linger in the shadows?” she asked him, gesturing with a cant of her muzzle toward the towering sequoias and their fallen brethren. “You have so many — and it is a good skill to have, learning to be invisible.”