Sleepy Fox Hollow honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop

His thoughts were deep and dreary, today. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd hoped to find Mahler here still. Not that he expected any sort of welcome from the man — but he'd liked him, and he'd wanted to find him alive and happy and surrounded by his cranky-ass kids. (Mainly, he was remembering Isa. Emmerich had been kind.)

But it was someone else who appeared. Dusty Rose couldn't help but bristle a little himself, if only because the guy was a good bit bigger than him.

He place a paw possessively over the meaty thigh bone he'd brought along.

"I'm looking for a wolf named Etienne," he replied, unsurprised to be met with hostility. A lot of wolves had a thing about coywolves because they had a thing about coyotes. Dusty didn't expect any particular show of respect from others. He'd killed plenty of coyotes, and he'd eaten them too. As far as he was concerned, anything smaller than him was fair game when he was hungry.

What bothered him, just a little, was the fact that the guy did feel something. Disgust? Contempt? Because if Dusty Rose wasn't going to make a meal out of someone, he treated them as well as he'd treat anyone.