Meadowlark Prairie Call me anytime you can see the lightning

She nodded, rose and padded away. Peregrine could not have guessed whether she was setting off to hunt for him or simply making an exit. He didn't have time to sit around, waiting and wondering. He snorted quietly, then resumed his earlier trajectory, loping purposefully in the direction of the mesa. By the time he got there, he had forgotten all about the skinny she-wolf. He busied himself with sniffing around the landmark for signs of prey, then reluctantly taking cover when the storm broke overhead.

He couldn't decide which was louder: the snarling thunder or the rumbling of his empty stomach.