Redtail Rise above me, the sky is a river

He itched and itched. He would often run his paw across his cheek and feel that the scar tissue still did not feel like part of his face, part of himself, an alien growth he had come to uneasy terms with. He indulged in the pain-pleasure, and the skin grew red with irritation.

You are?

Oh, he started and straightened up, almost shame-faced. I'm Gavrel.

Redd -- she let me in. This was probably obvious, but the silence here was unnerving and deprived of the usual ambience. It stood like a plot of alien land in an otherwise dense and fecund wood, like God had ashed a cosmic cigar. He was glad that his scar was already inflamed, which hid the fleeting but intense flushing of his face.

The stranger -- no, packmate -- was a will-o'-wisp which absorbed light rather than emitted it. Gavrel kept his gaze low and submissive. The trick was not to overthink it.