Blackfeather Woods the remedy is the experience

The pack’s scout appeared quickly-- a petite yearling wrapped in icy white from head-to-almost-tail. Somehow this was not the creature Lane expected to emerge from the woods’ shadows. The words were even more unexpected. Zephyr of Ivory Rose was not a scout, but a leader.  Who would have thought?

Actually, Lane could see it. There was an air of ferocity about the leader, and Lane thought she could smell wounds healing beneath that wintery fur. Lane could be wrong though—it was tough to smell much of anything with the pungent chervil roots in her mouth.

Lane opened her mouth, dropping the rootball in order to speak. ”I’m Lane.” She swallowed. Now or never, Lane. “I was hoping for a trade?” She gestured to the rootball at her feet. “Chervil root for your pack’s medicine stores,” she explained, in case the leader was unfamiliar with the herb, “..In exchange for permission to feed from your pack’s latest kill.” It was her family’s go-to exchange.

”Or..” Lane hesitated. ”Or I can help you bring down the next kill, if you prefer.”  Lane’s eyes lit up at the thought. She was improvising now; her parents would never have offered to assist in a hunt (Imagine the danger! The risk to life and limb!). Her parents would simply have moved on to the next border if there was no fresh kill available at this one.

Another wolf appeared behind Zephyr, seemingly just to watch. Lane's gaze flickered toward him briefly before landing back on the icy leader.