Wapun Meadow Of trains let bleed the gunmen of our pumping earthly hearts

He'd made the bypass into a home base of sorts, avoiding @Widow for the moment. They hadn't talked again since their hunt, but he'd left his scent a few places nearby. Sometimes, he howled in question, and then sat for long moments wondering if one of the voices had been hers. She was still alive, right?

Today, Persia decided he needed to get away for a while. He ranged out into the more open country, sniffing around to see if he could pick up his mother's trail. The black bear traveled swiftly, it seemed, but he did come across a little hollow where she'd bedded down for a nap. With company, he noted — and the busybody genes he'd inherited from this very woman suddenly pulled him in two directions. Was it more important to investigate his mother, or to carry on stalking trying to befriend Widow?

He wasn't sure. But his legs carried him toward the mountains until he caught sight of a mottled black form — one far too small to be his mother.

"Hey, you!" he called out from a short distance across the meadow. His steps were purposeful, fueled by the need — nay, the biological imperative! — to Know Things. "Have you seen a big lady pass through here? Kinna black and silver?"

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