The Sentinels Fish Fallet

“Fish?” Lotte repeated, glancing toward the shore as if she could see the bounty herself from where she stood. She turned back to the female with a bright smile. “Winter comes,” she said in her rich, warm alto, her dark tail flagging the air with excitement, “and I am sure the wolves of Donnelaith will be happy to share in such a feast.” The soot-stockinged rogue wasn’t a huge fan of aquatic fare, but she’d seen enough famine to know that food was always a gift — after all, she was the sister of the Bear. “I am not a strong fisher,” she admitted. “Do you enjoy it? I imagine your pack is full of proficient fishers.”