Lost Creek Hollow Bluegill

silvertongue watched the two, having learned to blend her slim frame with the shadows the hollow called its namesake. the boy was young, perhaps the youngest of them all. a brow arched; silvertongue flitted until a clearing opened along the path, and then she stepped out into it. "sandy," she greeted with a flick of her tail, a honeyed look for his handsome face. and then her pointed expression fell on the younger wolf, glassblue eyes taking in his youth and his injury. "what is your name, chamaco?"