The Sentinels Bring your love baby I could bring my shame

a great sadness had settled into every facet of lasher's existence. had it not been for his daughters, he would not have hunted, but instead allowed himself to waste away and succumb. it would be an easy thing, but he could not bring himself to abandon donnelaith. a hunted expression had replaced his usually affable gaze; his days melded into one another, and he had ceased the grooming of his pelt, so that it fell into tangled disarray. 

if he had cared to know, taltos appeared to be an elder these days, a skulking and aged man who moved through the thin shadows cast by the bare branches and said little to his wolves. the woman of ash and snow he beheld through such a copse. she did magick, he knew, whispering over a small seedling as if to persuade it to grow, and though he did not think it would, lasher saw no reason to dash her hope.