Bitterroot Valley Been Running, Running, Running

Somehow, the wolf's stutter had her realize his tangibility. He was not some fable any longer, but here, before her, as real as herself. She didn't quite answer his first question, instead zeroeing in on his second, a head tilt punctuating her words. "should I be afraid?" She'd never feared wolves, rather, been wary and respectful of their presence. Her siblings had been afraid, perhaps rightly so, though she, perhaps a little bold, perhaps a little stupid, had never quite been able to.