Silver Moraine I have seen sinking ships go down with more grace than you

The night was long and cold for such a young child all on her own. Long and cold and very, very lonely. There was no mama in this place, no Uncle @Everett or @Dusty Rose. No warmth at all.

Foxglove huddled in the dirt among the rocks, listening to the sounds of the night with wide eyes and tall ears. A familiar sound reached her then. A coyote's call — it wasn't Dusty Rose, but even so, he was the only one she knew who sounded quite like that. Naturally she associated the sound with safety.

So she lifted herself on trembling legs to follow it, on and on until she thought she saw a figure in the distance. The figure spotted her, too — and the sounds changed then. Something about them rose the hair along her spine. Foxglove could only stand and stare, not quite realizing that she was being sized up for a midnight snack.