Hoshor Plains the remembering

It could be! Fjall grinned. We will have to watch them and find out, he commented without realizing the implication behind his words.

As for where he had learned the tale: I met a man and his wife when I was very young. Me and my mother stayed with them for a time, and I heard many stories from them. Their children had gone away, so I think it comforted them to tell me these things. He thought of the time and felt a distant longing that faded quickly, quicker than it ever had before. As a child, I enjoyed them very much. I know stories about why the eagles take our children, and how the beavers came to cut their wood. Once or twice, I have found such tales to seem true, but most are impossible to know for certain if they are history or not.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, with Fjall eyeing between the legs of one bison in an attempt to confirm its sex. He looked up sharply as Arktos’ words registered, surprised that it had been proposed he could be of use to the man’s pack. He was quiet for a moment, stunned at first and then genuinely considering. He looked towards the bison.

It would mean he got to observe them up close. It would mean he got to stay with…

I would like to stay, he said. He hardly had to think twice about it. This was the first time since Moonsong that he felt useful. Your pack is called Yellowstone?

fade here for another??