Lost Creek Hollow there is black coal filling up our homes

There’s no doubt that, in time, she’ll run across the other members.  There isn’t any way she can avoid it, but she didn’t have plans to do so. She enjoys her time alone, uses it to her advantage, but she’s having to start all over, getting to know each wolf once again.  It would take time for her to settle and feel comfortable around the group like she had before.  Leaving her old pack hadn’t been in her plans for her future.  While she’d been shaken up, she’d moved on.  She puffed up her chest and kept going forward; it is useless to dwell on a past she can’t change.

“A few weeks or so, I suppose,” she muses, looking back to her leader.  “Maybe a little longer.  The beginning was a little hectic and the end was a blur. I’m glad it’s come to an end, though.”

Root takes a sharp breath, cool air filling her lungs in a way the water had when she drank.  The wear of travel had been rough on her but her hunting skills had been able to keep her fed, fending off hunger for as long as she could.  She thinned out some but her frame had been naturally thin, unlike her mother.  Her hunting skills had past down from the woman, where she’d gotten it from hers, and Root hopes to continue the legacy here.

“Is it weird?” Root asks, with a slight tilt of her head.  She shies away from looking to Mordacai’s face, avoiding anything resembling a challenge but her curiosity has slipped in.  “Without the eye?”