Dragoncrest Cliffs for day is near, the moon is set

loko sat behind sobo, a passive observer. each wolf swam in his vision, his mind sticky. unpacked.

he shared the sentiment of his brother. conflict rose in him like a wave. chacal was blood. seawater in her veins. but she was also wayfarer. different. she’d walked away from the cliffs and come back.

he was not loko but an outsider peering in. his gut twisted as he thought of rosalyn. nothing - not laurelwreathed chacal or smiling meerkat - could obscure the meaning of this change. like a loose tooth, loko thumbed silently at his worry until howls broke the sky.

he wished to be happy, but grey had moved in.