Sheepeater Cliff we made our homes in different places

The lost lamb’s scent trail grew fresher with each step, and eventually the Gampr and the Groenendael parted ways. Stockholm busied himself with investigating a nearby cache while Seelie continued onward — and eventually, a familiar voice reached her waiting ears. They strained forward, cupping eagerly to catch the tail end of Screech’s story as her catlike paws quickened.

“…all of them, they were all there and grabbing me, and…I blacked out.”

Coelacanth was assailed with a mental image so painfully harrowing her eyes shimmered with unshed tears — was that how he had lost his eye? — and she burst upon the scene in a miniature mushroom cloud of snow as though by moving quickly now she could somehow prevent the tragedies that had already transpired. Feathery hackles riffled to life along her spine as she issued a meaningful boof! and allowed it to trail off into a kittenish growl — yet at the sight of the golden-eyed wolf and his striking resemblance to the grayscale twain, her defensive posture and defiant expression melted away. Was this…his family? Tufted ears fluttered uncertainly as she retreated a step or two, huffing out a breath that rippled from her nose in an uneasy whuffle.

Unaware that her coloring was strikingly similar to Screech’s erstwhile attackers and that Liffey and Rannoch — or even Screech himself! — might take offense to her taking such liberties, Seelie took a few tremulous steps forward to station herself at the boy’s hip. Though she was dwarfed in height by all of the wolves present, most especially the turquoise-eyed behemoth, she knew she would not hesitate to throw herself into harm’s way on the lamb’s behalf.