not far from his claim, the river arched and narrowed into frigid streams rimed in ice. wolves had passed here, and recently.

he did not drink; he began to track them, reading what he might in their tread and the scents left behind. longing filled him. he did not enjoy staying so long in one place; he was annoyed that they were not yet upon their way.

saatsine-wolf made a slow patrol of the stream, enjoying the gentle torment of his own thirst.