Jade Fern Grove the sun hasn't died

By the time they arrived at the doorstep of what would become their new home, Swift was dragging his paws. The chamomile he had picked up from earlier had wilted in his jaws, for he had clung to the bundle of plants as if his life had depended on it. So upset was he, so disturbed by the events of the last little while. His brother beside him seemed keen to explore, but the white boy with the black stripe looked around the new place with suspicion. He did not see the beauty that his father saw, nor the wonderful potential that excited Pasha. He saw unfamiliar trees and landscapes that were not home. He saw the potential for danger, for unknown horrors to be lurking in the shadows. His view was utterly pessimistic and fearful.

He barked at Pasha when his brother strode forward. It was a strange bark, one scared, one angry, one scolding. It transitioned into an uneasy rumble, then faded into a soft whine as Swift sat back on his haunches and laid his ears flat.