Shadow Mountain zoka

Anselm followed the herd as they wound out of the hollow. He had no intention of hunting today; his mind was elsewhere.

Two women, two men. Any other wolf would be happy for such numbers -- but Anselm felt only the bitter sting of jealousy.

What if he began to like them?

Anselm busied himself by taking note of the herd's migratory patterns. Some rested in fields afar; others cut through the swath under the clatter of shale.

Another figure trailed long behind them. Anselm's ears swung forward in earnest as he studied the creature. Wolfish. Thin. Another vagrant, perhaps. Anselm had already done his one charitable deed of the year letting Fiona in -- he steeled his heart against any kindness, watching the willowy wolf as she gradually stalked uphill.