Otter Creek i’ve got flowers but there ain’t no grave.

"once or twice." belen stepped delicately with the other wolf. the other may have been leery but she was not. perhaps it was a credit to how protected she had been, first by her overbearing father, and then in the palace. she rarely left, and when she did it was in pursuit of the nearest and most interesting sight. today that was the strong she-wolf hunting beside her. belen blinked down at tiny tracks, pausing. "otters have a heavy smell," she declared for no reason. "what should i call you?" she attempted kasmut's winning tone then, smiling warmly at the other.