Emberwood we don't need a rat

A go.

His pace picked up to near a run. The snow softened the sound of his steps and the smaller frame he still carried in youth helped plenty too.

When the sight of that injured coyote came into view, Marston wanted to be quick.

If not stopped, he planned to damn near dive bomb the beast. High were his hopes of grabbing the skin on its back, thin and protective of all the good spots to injure.