The Tangle get loose get low get low

Moon Runner’s muzzle lifted to scent the air. When her nostrils flared they pulled in the smell of saltwolf which lit up a negative receiver in her brain. The last time she had encountered a coastal wolf was when a pale girl, Astera, had crossed their borders into the burned place. The memory was hazy, but Moon Runner recalled she had been chased out.

Her jaw stiffened and her ears tipped backward. One of the others became tense, too, when Moon Runner was spotted. She did not move from her place behind the log and, for a moment, it felt like a stalemate until the mahogany-hooded yearling stepped up and spoke.

It would be evident, from the vacuous, feral gaze of Moon Runner’s eyes, that she did not comprehend the common tongue or the concept of verbal names. Words bounced off of her, repelled, like water on glass.

However, the friendly, yet curious, red gaze of the diplomat softened something within Moon Runner. Yet if it were not for Tall Shadow’s arrival, Moon Runner might have retreated to Rise, outnumbered. He touched her shoulder and moved with confidence. It was enough to pull the cream-colored yearling out from behind the log and meander toward their company.