Blackfoot Forest black stockings

The female was welcoming to him, and when she spoke, it was in the tongue of the wolf. He understood it, well enough, as a greeting. Blinking slowly, the moonlighter parted his fox-like muzzle and attempted his own tongue against the wolf language. “Hel...lo,” the spook tested with a careful placing of his words. Tadec did not like their language, but his father had insisted that he learn to dwell with the wolves. What a cursed being.

Rustling of the brush startled him, and the coyote's rickety limbs stiffened. The burnished bronze of his gaze darted excitedly toward the noise. Naturally, he anticipated an ambush from the wolf before him. How could she be so kind in light of a harsh winter? Of course she would lure him to his death. He had stolen so many things from the wolves; father Tiel'c had told him it would always come back to find him again.