The Sunspire The sound of their tongues being bitten is all I hear.

The boy did not know who this was. It was not a Saint, but they smelled of sand and clay, not unlike the canyon paths. The look about them gave Sivugat pause; he did not move closer and instead watched as the stranger moved of their own accord, drawing along with a well placed stride and sombre expression. The way their silver-flecked coat prickled gave the boy a thrill.

The hesitation was not long-lasting. When it became clear the other wolf was advancing with ill intent Sivugat lowered his head, taking on a bear-like hunch, and rumbled a low warning. The fur along his nape fluffed up a bit while the rest of him serrated, not unlike his predecessor. At his hocks shifted his tail, snapping at the grass.

The sky overhead, already grown overcast, distantly rumbled.