Sleepy Fox Hollow baptisia alba macrophylla

It was not Anselm’s nature to be confrontational — at least not yet. That proclivity would come in the following weeks, as change came over Paleo and Anselm wrestled with his place within it. All the same he found himself trailing Waxwing’s scent. 

He’d detected traces of this male here and there, and seen him occasionally with Papa. Enough to form a mental picture - young, about his age, a sallow tan with a bright mask that may have placed him firmly in Wylla’s family were it not for Anselm’s knowledge otherwise. Something about a male wolf his age jostled a hidden memory in the boy — and at times he wondered just where this competitive spirit came from. 

He was not so bold as to announce himself. Rather, he stalked after Waxwing as he threaded the northeastern hills — deciding he’d make a game of how long it took the yearling to notice him.