Twisted Slough enshrined in crematoria

An ear would tip in the direction of his father – the Mayfair yearling cast him a glance before studying the flock above them. It was hard to keep the saliva from pooling within his jowls at the thought of a plump bird, but the swarthy wolf managed to maintain himself.
 
With hope spurring him forward, Constantine dutifully trailed after his father and pack mates, his own voice remaining as silent as the nature around them had become.