Lost Creek Hollow Everyone has

Gerrronimooooooo! With Mother in full-blown Lecture Mode again, it hadn't taken Jet very long to peel off on her own. She scooted under a low-hanging woody vine with a few well-placed thorns that snagged a tuft or three of black fur as she thought to herself somewhat smugly that this obstacle was likely to make it all the more difficult to extract her for any reprimands or further talkiness. She surged forward deep into the thickets, careless of how they tried to snag and drag upon her and impede her progress, already scheming feigned deafness in her mind for when Mother inevitably tried to call her back. The thick underbrush really did muffle noises from behind somewhat, mind you: Mother's voice was fading into an indistinct murmur rather quickly. It didn't conceal the sudden sharp bark very well, however, at which Jet stopped, turned half-about with some difficulty, and cocked her head in interest. Who was that? Certainly not any of her brothers, and it didn't sound like Mother... She began to wriggle her way back posthaste to check the noise out, but now found her clever plans to twart the movement of others was instead holding her back. Jet gave a little yarrowling noise of frustration as she shoved at the uncooperative brushwood, followed by a small, sharper yip as one especially large thorn pricked her tender nose right good.

This injury was pushed aside and then quickly dismissed entirely as she burst back onto the scene however, her eyes eagerly homing in on the big wolf who was not Mother. Jet's little pink tongue darted out to instinctively grab the small drop of blood tickling her noseleather just before she opened her jaws to greet Sarah cheerily. Harro! she said, prancing up to the big willowy female, her gaze riveting to the wolf's bald scars for one long moment of fascination. Then the very last bit of what the wolf had said that Jet's ears had actually caught clicked into place in her mind. Help with what? she demanded eagerly.