Sleepy Fox Hollow hazoo hazay

Far be it from Wylla to wait any longer. Mahler and her children tucked in, and if she noticed the strange little coyoteguy watching and prancing with a pinecone in his mouth instead of eating, she gave no indication of it while she fed.

When she was so full she felt fit to burst, she retreated from the carcass, licking flesh and blood from her jowls, and gave the weird new guy a long, searching look. He reminded her a little of Ålesund, and the association wasn't pleasant. Lucky for Dusty Rose that Wylla's temper had banked down a lot since coming to the Hollow, or she might have given voice to some of her more abrasive thoughts about his behaviour in that moment.

Instead, she let Mahler take the lead. Dusty was pretty much just a kid, or at least he looked and acted like one, so Wylla assumed maybe that was the source of his awkwardness. She put it from her mind and turned her attention to her mate, awaiting his story while beckoning their remaining kids to her side. She wondered about Anselm in these moments, how he was faring, what he was doing, and hoped for the twenty-seven hundredth time that it was not the same as Thade's disappearance.

Anselm was older, more capable; it could not be the same.