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

there was nothing and then there was an otter. instinct told belen that it was elderly and could not move as fast. she responded knife-flash quick to yami's hunting crouch, scarcely daring to breathe or to move herself. she slunk in from the side, only allowing herself the same speed as the other wolf. an imitation, pale. unready. but belen kept herself in the moment, looking to yami for the signal.