Shadewood Even though we know it, everyone remains in play.

The beaver was looking right at them now, prompting her lips to pull into a slight frown as she admitted, Probably not.

But the Castor canadensis was hardly the only prey available to them. Masque’s tail switched thoughtfully as she tipped her red muzzle upward, scenting the air. Here near the water, the smells were particularly rich. As she sifted through them, a craving suddenly and powerfully hit.

I want pork, Masque practically moaned, thinking of the group that lived on the north side of the rise.