by this time, lasher had become accustomed to peregrine's summons — they had a pleasing effect upon him. but ears swept forward at the desperate note in the panther's voice, his call ranging out over the trees. peregrine was quiet, discrete in his seeking out of taltos; this was something different, changed, and dread raked cold fingers down his spine.
he was swift, and arrived at the lash of the river. the woman who was mother to osprey junior stood near, and the willow, the dark wolves caught up in a palpable aura of fear. making his way past the child called saēna, lasher let himself down the steep path and stepped among them. peregrine, he murmured softly, though his eyes were for the snarl of the high waters. his heart was a stone thudding to its bed, and he fervently prayed, for the devil's sake, that his daughter had not been taken to her fate by the cold ribbon.