Redhawk Caldera The governer rests under the stars

She knew not what the silver wolf was going through, and when he spoke at last, his struggle remained a mystery to her. Murderer? she thought incredulously. What murderer? Instead of voicing the question, though, she remained silent for a while, bowing her head with as much sympathy she could muster. "I'm sorry," she offered after several long moments, managing to inject a little more warmth into her tone this time.

The wiry gray was healthy enough, despite the famine, but he was clearly troubled by something--Nashoba caught the acrid smells of anger and adrenaline clinging to his coat. Something was bothering him, something having to do with a murderer--whatever that meant. Perhaps, if this wolf would not tell her, she would ask Elwood later about the situation.