Sleepy Fox Hollow Sun setting on the brink

She had not expected him to take her up on the suggestion. In fact, she had half-expected that he spit some retort in her face about something or another. Instead, he had another suggestion. A suggestion that sounded downright exhausting. Fiona thought on it, then bent her neck down comically to look directly beneath her chest where Prowler still stood quietly, eyeing the predator before her. The witch knew that she, like all wolves, was a social creature, and ignoring that part of herself was not good in the long run, even if it were only a few months.

The upside-down image of Prowler was enough to make her realize not even the bandit could keep her sane, let alone safe. Fiona sucked in a breath, and resumed a more natural stance. Fine, but nobody can eat Prowler. She works for me. She can help us gather things, and she's pretty useful at picking up smaller items that require more delicate care. She didn't think Anselm would really understand, but this was the most anybody had fought for her since she'd left Greenroot.