Dawnlark Plains I drew that glass across his neck, fine as any blade.

she ought not to venture from the Rise. last time she had, a bear had tried to behead her.

but the dynamics at home have changed so much, and so many faces missing. . . Avicus doesn't know what to make of it all, and seeks solitude, save for her children.

those remaining, anyway. (Redd—where have you gone?)

the man is a dark blotch upon green-gold fields, and she moves toward him, quick but silent, though not necessarily intending to conceal her presence. when she's in sight, she lifts her chin in a silent question.

who are you?

this was not her claim—not officially, anyway. but it gives her a slight qualm, always, to find other wolves here, in their hunting grounds;

and especially as summer begins to wind down into fall, and then toward the long winter. . .