Redtail Rise We are close to war.

From a distance, Masque’s greeting was short if not perfunctory. Her gaze turned elsewhere. Riley visually traced the direction of her interest, catching only the briefest dart of orange-flame fur.

His mind jolted back to an earlier memory, to Indra. His reverie was short lived as another elk call sounded over the trees, this time sending a legion of small brown birds to wing.

By now Masque had come closer. Her ears were askance in their own awkward angle — Riley had no earthly idea what it was she had just been thinking, but he greeted her with a companionable whuff and low wag of his tail. Masque’s head just perceptively lifted; without thinking, Riley’s posture converted, his head canted lower to signal appeasement.