Sleepy Fox Hollow golden threads of the craftsman's loom

for a moment, feral instict had seized coelho: her fur quilled, her frame froze -- and her eyes seemed owlishly unblinking. yet the stranger in the shadows, half-concealed save for their brilliant eyes, remained unmoved.

that was good enough for coelho, who after getting over her initial surprise, felt her tail stir in friendliness. "hi!" she called into the thicket, ears flopping forward as she waited for the wolf to unfold itself from its dark cover. "were you hunting the fox?"