Meadowlark Prairie Lovely and provocative butcher paper silhouettes of slavery era self-mutilation

Wherever the far south was, they had some pretty strange customs. Dragomir wasn't about the judge, but this was an unusual method of tracking if he ever saw one. It reminded him a little bit of Moriko, who found prey in underground tunnels by feeling vibrations in her paws, a feat Dragomir had yet to manage. In fact, he never would manage it, and it was likely he would never perfect Vanity's technique, either, because the track had almost completely disappeared beneath the lave of his tongue.

The art of delicately removing fresh snow from an iced over imprint just wasn't his forte, he guessed.

It's okay, he said, although he couldn't help but to frown at his failure. Vanity must have an incredible amount of self control to be able to do this well. I can sorta smell the tracks anyway, and you can see them when the wind blows sometimes. The blowing snow diverted around the raised edges here and there, bringing the tracks into sharp relief if only for a moment. I think this one might be injured. I noticed one of the paws seems to be dragging a bit. Trekking several feet forward in the snow, Dragomir lowered his nose and then found one of the tracks he was referring to. He gestured for Vanity to take a look.

She agreed and the pair continued following the tracks until they located the injured coyote. It put up a bit of a fight but it was no match for the two wolves, who dispatched it, took some flesh for their respective packs, and parted ways.