Swiftcurrent Creek sun kil moon

“”

Lecter was not a social creature in any aspect of the word, and necessary forays from his den for herbs and food left him prickling with apprehension, hackles forming a bloodstained veil of unapproachability to any who laid eyes upon him.

Hunger drew him out this morn; the ageing madman thought that perhaps he would try his paw at fishing, which was not a skill he had ever cultivated. Setting a slow trot for himself, though his limp had lessened considerably, Lecter drew toward to the body of water for which his current home was named, but a vaguely commanding voice drew his attention.

Though it was not directed at him, the Theta bristled nevertheless; that a yearling should command a wolf more than twice her age had never appealed to him, but for Jinx's sake, he followed the foxwolf. Now he veered to avoid his leader and the youngster with whom she convened, hoping belatedly that they would not spot the telltale glow of his pale coat in the gloom.