Dawnlark Plains i find a glimpse of us,

Sunday Morning heard the howl. She paused, one paw hovering over the earth. The tone and timber told her things, and suddenly, Sunday was curious. Downwind, she had not detected hints of him, his kill, or his company. The pale wolf turned on her heel in the direction she had heard him call, tail swaying behind her. Despite not wanting company, her curiosity was piqued. She took several steps in his direction, not yet seeing him. Sniffing the wind, Sunday licked her chops.

And against her better judgment, she lifted her head and called back. There was a deeper desire within her that she did not understand. Here I am, the call sang—for she thought she had detected a question of such, and now he would know of the distance between them. Her ears pricked, awaiting some sort of answer as she shifted her weight before darting several more steps forward.