Wapun Meadow et peccatum meum contra me est semper

The bear-thing spoke.

Where he expected a sluggish voice to meet the slovenly nature of their body, he was surprised with the opposite. This bear, this wolf, this creature of confounding make, spoke with a sharp and bright tone that did not fit what Mesa now looked upon.

He was at once disgusted by them — as he was disgusted by anything alien — and still, wary.

Hunting. He answers. Though he speaks with a low tone, he has not spoken in many days and the sound of it is the most shocking thing about this exchange. He is startled by how loud he feels he is being; in truth, he is barely audible.

There is another sound — a more distant wailing. To this he turns his ears, and looks curiously over the bear-dog's head for the source, though it is far. There is hunger in his gaze now, which does not bode well for the child.