Blackfeather Woods You can repent but I warn you,

yes!

A howl. Maegi sighed deeply, rising to her paws from the hillock where she sat. Shouldn't they know the trees were unsafe, and thus they had fled? She supposed that no one could know everything, particularly about the internal affairs of an unfamiliar pack. At least, she assumed it was unfamiliar to them—the voice was unfamiliar to her.

But as she approached the edge of the trees where he lay, she realized she'd get no answers at all, at least for the time being. Since Miryam can't read, we'll try again with the greeting. There would be no greeting. He was out cold. Maegi padded up to him, frowning, nothing familiar in his raven-black pelt, either.

Hey, she muttered as she drew close, prodding him lightly with her injured foreleg (damn, that hurt!). Are you dead? His ribcage rose and fell, but otherwise, he looked it. And she'd dealt with way too much death lately for this to be anything but a hindrance and an agonizing reminder of what she'd lost.