The Heartwood Kita

Shiranui did not mind the closeness of the preacher. It gave them warmth throughout the cold night.

The white wolf did not imagine that he would be gifted with a voice. It was not something that he felt was needed. God in whatever shape he took, had given the hunter a voiceless life. Shiranui had only made the best of it. It was good to him, for him, and he could not have imagined one that was different to it. Silence was not a problem to the white wolf.

Shiranui had found that there were many with the gift of language who used it poorly. The world could do with a few more who stopped to only listen.

Ruby eyes were closed, and sleep swept the wolf away.