Hoshor Plains lord hear me now, junkboats and english boys

It was a few days ago, now, that the girl had simply stepped over the borders and headed north, for what purpose she did not know. Her time in Tindome had been, up to this point, much as it had been in Undersea. She stocked the caches, participated in hunts when the howl of another spurned her forth, but beyond that, she saw little of her packmates. It was self-imposed, her isolation; she had come to the general conclusion that she did poorly in a social setting. 

Bison where here, those great and lumbering beasts. She approached for no reason other than bland interest, slipping near to the herd with a hunter's silence, though her stomach was full and the sharp angles of her body softened after weeks in the pack. The rush of a river temped the harshness of her throat, and gradually the angled towards its muted roar.