Sun Mote Copse As if some magic, like a staff found a burning bush

Auburn tried to calm down and listen to Meerkat, though she wanted desperately to burst into tears and run away. But if she ran, she'd be back where she started: alone and prone to starving to death. And she'd already proven that she could barely survive on her own.

Meerkat said she had to think of her children. As if Auburn was a danger to them. She sat down in a bit of shock, imagining herself in her mind's eye, imagining Skipjack happily approaching her as she ate. Imagining herself hunched over a hunk of meat, and bounding toward the boy to protect her food. Imagined the blood. She flinched and turned her face away, burning with shame. She'd never thought of her food-aggression this way before, had never known to. Growing up the runt of the litter in a small family pack who always seemed to struggle to bring in enough food, she'd had to fight for every scrap, and had often cried herself to sleep at night, nursing bruises and bites, with the taste of blood in her mouth.

No wonder she hated the taste of blood. Maybe her aversion to hunting had nothing to do with hunting itself, but with the fact that it reminded her of fighting her own siblings over scraps. I don't want to hurt anyone, she whispered. I'm sorry. I'll... do whatever you want, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry...