Ankyra Sound VIII. Standing in the back door crying, now you're going to need a friend.

He thought he saw her eyes flicker open, and Kaertok clenched his jaw. His ears slid forward as he listened to the wolf who seemed most knowledgeable. She directed the first white wolf—the one who had said Raleska was a lost cause—to find various things, but Kaertok doubted that he would. Instead, he listened carefully, repeating the descriptions in his head as she listed them out. The names weren't anything he recognized, so he would have to go based on whatever she was able to provide in such a short amount of time.

Moss. Moss he did know.

Kaertok spun around and forced his legs to carry him faster, faster, faster. His chest was heaving, but Raleska...

He had hunted many times before, but never for weeds. Never for moss. But just now, that was what she needed. Whatever conflict was between them did not matter now. Racing against time, Kaertok managed to stuff his mouth full of moss and rush back as quickly as he could. He felt it had been forever and no time at all.

Hurriedly, he dumped the moss at the silver girl's feet and sped off again, this time in search of the other things she had requested.