Felltree Marsh Gigelorum

Shea lifted his head towards the soft sound aimed at him, his eyes following a puff of warm breath on the cold air to meet the steady gaze of a blond-laced teenager. She was slim and wiry, with blue eyes so pale that they appeared silver in the lowlight. The older male was able to read the readiness in her stance and the invitation in her querying voice to know what she wanted and think the same of her.

His crooked tail wagged, beckoning her nearer, giving her control over how close they would come to one another. He then gestured in front of him, where there were telltale signs of frequent beaver activity.

This area, with several trees stripped of their bark, was near a stream that ran down into a large pond where a beaver family’s lodge would no doubt be found. The hour of the beaver was fast approaching; they would leave the pond with their nearly-ready-to-disperse adolescents and traipse upstream to forage here, giving the two wolves a perfect opportunity to set up an ambush before that moment.

Shea tilted his head at the young huntress, wondering if she understood the situation or required his guidance.