Silver Creek the ants go marching one by one

"donnelaith. it's along the coast we left," he answered simply, nostrils flaring as he searched for unknown wolfscent. content to find none, he pressed on, assuming she would follow. hunger and an edge of fear made Casmir silent, more watchful than talkative, but presently his eyes turned to his companion.

"what about you?" the young wolf murmured, muzzle dipping to take in the fragrance left by weasel-spoor. the meat of such animals was gamy and strong, but it was better than starving.