Silver Moraine If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part

Mid-howl, a great clattering of branches and limbs made her wrench her ears forward. She cut her voice off abruptly and panned her remaining eye around her surroundings, pausing on clusters of bushes. It'd sounded almost exactly like a grouse breaking cover, only Wylla knew grouse a little better than that. They were clever little birds and very, very brave. You could practically step on one before it would give up its hiding place.

That was no grouse.

Down she hopped from her rocky perch to slink suspiciously toward the nearest stand of bushes. On the off chance it was a grouse, it had gone right back into hiding. She couldn't see it now. To the left there was another large bush—the very one that Sunhawk hid behind. When she found nothing of interest, she turned toward that one next, lifting her lips in a very quiet, disconcerted growl.