Wapun Meadow day after day, alone on a hill

She smiled silent thanks at his compliment of her name. Her mother had given it to her. She felt a pang of empathy for the young wolf as he described the circumstances of his life so far--a runaway mother, an aloof father. So many days, Miyako had woken up, wondering whether her father would be there for them or not. In a way, his death had been a blessing: an end to the everyday question of his presence.

"It's brave of you to leave your family to go back to the place you want to be," Miyako said gently. "So many wolves cling to blood. And you get to visit them, which is the icing on the cake.

"How many wolves are in Easthollow?" she asked, truly curious. She wasn't quite ready to join another pack quite yet, but winter was coming, and food would soon become scarce. If she was to survive. . .  Miyako pushed away the thought. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.