Lost Creek Hollow a sanguine fog

Luke pinched his brows. Mordecai did not know the cat's name? Then why had it been spoken to him, like a curse, a burden for him to bear? His tail flicked with his irritation. "He wanted me to know his name before he..." his eyes were cast aside as he trailed off, and he chewed his lip as he ruminated on that moment he had been broken. He thought it was by luck he had survived and managed to drag himself home. But now it occurred to him that perhaps that cat had never meant to kill him. There was more suffering in letting him live.

"I want to kill him," he growled. "I want to take from him, just as he had taken from you, and from me." There was more to the words than Mordecai would likely catch; the blue-nosed wolf would see the cat impaled by his revenge if he could. But he knew, even in his irrational state, that he could not. Fear of the cat, the discouraging knowledge of what it was capable of, had been seared into his very soul. It was a want, a desire, that would go unsatisfied.

Unless...