Dawnlark Plains I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize

He forgave her lapse of attention, chalking it up to her being lost in thought. Shale listened carefully as she spoke, filing it away for later use. There would be a time when he'd have to approach Grayday about the things wolves had been saying. Though he wasn't leadership, he felt as if he knew his brother well enough to whisper in his ear.

It was likely that Grayday had heard it all, anyway. He felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered that this was Day's preferred territory, with no obstacles in the way of his failing vision. Still, though. . .the pack must be heard.

"I can understand wanting a place to hide," Shale murmured, empathizing with the woman. He had kept to the trees after Lucy had died; the open plains, though full of prey to fill his empty stomach, were too akin to his open, bleeding heart. He'd felt vulnerable out there, exposed to whatever terrible thing the gods had in store for him next. He'd have preferred death--the cold nights on the prairie were worse.

"Have you visited our rendezvous site since we arrived?" he asked, a smile returning to his face once more. "We've been working to dig out some dens in the hillside--we could dig you one of your own, if you liked. Some shelter from the open ground."