The Heartwood Kita

The preacher continued to speak.

Shiranui had found a particularly sharp stick that scratched against his ribs. The white wolf rolled to his back, swaying from side to side until he could feel it strike against his skin. He huffed and grunted until he had scratched the itch satisfactorily. When he had finished, he rolled to his belly and rested his chin upon his paws.

A chuff was made.

Shiranui would have liked to see the dog try to sleep in the snow. He’d freeze stiff, surely.