Cedar Sweep sometime come the mother. sometime the wolf.

AW

carefully, ich'aak set down into the leaf-litter -- his eyes trained on the slow descent of the form ahead. the form, a sour grey color with an equally sour disposition, belonged to a short-sighted, badly tempered porcupine -- one that ich'aak had hounded for several days.

the porcupine was aware of his presence, and would occasionally lift its blunted muzzle and wave its prehistoric tail -- each time it did this ich'aak sprung back like a cat, his lips lifted in an offended snarl.

it was clear he could not get close -- not now. this fact was equally clear to the porcupine, who otherwise lumbered on through the pine-straw and leaf-litter doing whatever it was that porcupines did.