Lost Creek Hollow a sanguine fog

The white wolf glanced up at his leader. "Yeah," he murmured with a nod of his head. He knew and he wanted Mordecai to know that he knew, even if there was temptation pricking at his toes. He could not help but wish the cat would return, but he was lanced by guilt at the thought. Despite his unbridled anger, he still cared deeply for his companions here at the hollow, for Harlyn in particular, and he could not wish for danger to come their way.