Lost Creek Hollow we all feed on tragedy

The three-legged shadow hurried to the summoning howl. His pace was not slowed until he neared the place where the dark visitor stood. 

Crowfeather had been summoned by name. This must have been one of the wolves from the creek - an ally. The Star stepped into view, paws sinking into the snow. Once he had gotten closer, he confirmed the scent on the man’s coat belonged to their neighbors. 

The tripod was nervous. He gave the man a tentative wag of his tail. Sad honey eyes traced the dark figure. He reminded Crowfeather of Germanicus. Distress spilled into his belly. When he spoke, his voice was lighter than a feather. 

H- Hello.