Heron Lake Plateau The Years Go By

The stranger peered skyward and Masquerade resisted the urge to follow her gaze, keeping her own trained on the other wolf. She was a little larger than the Redtail, her pelt calling to mind rocky strata. When her head eventually dropped, Masque caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes.

She didn’t look away for a moment, prepared to assert herself. But then the woman offered a polite greeting, so Masque let her golden eyes slide sideways to avoid an unnecessary challenge. In the same breath, she cautiously closed some of the distance between them, slowing to a halt about three yards away.

Hello, she responded in kind. I’m Masque.