Meadowlark Prairie No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold

The Stormthorn had not expected the wolf she stole from to follow her. She looked up mid-lick, her pink tongue protruding abruptly from a shock of black gums, yet her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. Her tongue retracted and a dryness seeped unpleasantly upon her tongue. She felt her stomach heave.

"Who is asking?" She asked gruffly, her eyes narrowing as she had difficulty focusing on the piebald wolf. She sat upright, her front limbs stiff out ahead of her but her hinds uncoordinated. What was happening, exactly? She had never felt this way and a buzzing tingle started to expand outward as if her very self was growing beyond the means of her body.