Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

Luke's exploration might have taken him further north past the mountain ranges, either by crossing them or skirting around the edge, had he not committed himself to Harlyn's upcoming pack. Knowing, or perhaps just hoping, that the founding of her dream would not be too far in the future, he made a point to keep himself accessible to her summons. Thus remained in the southern wilds, but he would not be bored. There were still many pieces of the area he had not seen, and on this day he made to view them, giving a wide berth to the dark wood he had been warned of.

It seemed two things occurred simultaneously: the blue-nosed wolf glimpsed the meadow and his nose breathed in the scent of a familiar wolf: Lasher, the quiet male with whom he had followed a kingly elk on its final walk. Immediately, his tail began to sway, pleased by the prospect of another chat with an established companion. He did not need to travel far to see his dark friend, surveying the meadow spread before his paws. "Lasher! Taltos!" Luke called both his friend's names as he bounded toward him, smiling broadly. "Are you stalking another old elk?" he asked playfully, knowing very well there was no elk this time.