Blackfeather Woods I am that technology allowed.

Back to the forest, where Kinloch found that he felt most at home. The dark shadows that were cast by the trees were a godsend on a hot day. The silver wolf had not prepared for the torrential rain that had ridden in on looming black clouds.

The water had fallen until the ground rejected it and it rushed toward some southern destination - a larger body, perhaps. When the worst of the rainfall had subsided, Kinloch ventured out of his hiding place and into the dripping woodland. His large paws slapped at the wetted earth.

A familiar figure lifted his head.

Anselm, the man called out.