Blackfeather Woods There is a first for everything.

Potema frowned; another one of her siblings was recklessly letting themselves be hurt. But unlike Cicero, she didn't trust Kendra to know her limits. She was too young, too precious (not that Cicero wasn't, mind you, but Kendra wasn't an adult yet), to let this wantonly continue without some kind of supervision. That may be true, but I'd rather you not die of infection just because you ignore a wound. Potema nosed over the marks she could clearly see, noting how deep they were; any other wolf would find them painful. What was wrong with Kendra?

Were they trespassing, then? She murmured casually, still evaluating the extent of Kendra's wounds. She wasn't surprised, given what she could see of the loner's frame, that it had trespassed in search of food. The famine was hardest on the loners, whose choice to live alone rather than in a pack was their downfall. The treatment of the wolf wasn't surprising either, given the nture of their pack. But the one who dealt out the punishment...that still confused and racked her brain.