Blackfeather Woods I am that technology allowed.

Anselm had a good eye, pointing out the old river that had once washed through the land.

Perhaps this was how riverbeds died and new ones were born. It seemed to be a surprising act of nature, though such things were largely unpredictable and more often than not they were dangerous. From where the two wolves stood, it didn't seem that this discovery would result in harm to either of them.

Peering closer at the thing inside, Kinloch felt his stomach twist with uncertainty. He'd never seen anything like it. He couldn't think of anything similar, anything that might give him a sense of confidence.

Does it have bones? he asked in a dazed tone. No, it couldn't. The face of it was dark and lifeless.