Witch's Marsh a dancing dream of all eternity

Maiira listened to the young girl—at least, she assumed it was a young girl, though it was hard to tell in the dark. A group of wolves here. So, a pack, then? She grimaced to herself, glancing away. Packs were not things Maiira was familiar with so much. She had lived with her mother and siblings as a small unit growing up, but they had avoided associating with wolves or wolf packs for fear of being chased away or killed. Such things had happened many times, for wolves and coyotes did not mix—except, apparently, to occasionally mate. That sort of bias left a bad taste in Maiira’s mouth.

“Does Maiira like it…?” she mused, trying to forget her own bias towards wolves. “She supposes so. It is quite a magical place, yes?” She glanced around at the dark trees, casting somewhat sinister shadows in the night. “It is not a place Maiira would think wolves would like. What brought this one here, she wonders.” The coywolf looked back at the girl, inviting her to answer the question.