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Wealda’s return drew the attention and curiosity of others. On Moon Runner’s heels was little brother Pebble. Each day, he looked less and less like the small, round stone for which he was named… though Moon Runner thought he still had a puppy face despite his long, reedy legs.

Though he approached submissively, Wealda asked for space with her voice. Then, Father came between them and scooped Pebble up. As a three-month-old, Moon Runner could tell Little Brother’s puppy privileges were ending… but that wasn’t the only reason Father kept Pebble away.

With Wealda’s permission, Moon Runner came near. First, she inspected the child. He was bright-eyed and fluffy – an innocent spark of fresh, new life. Her cold wet nose hovered above the pup’s nape where she could detect the fading scent of Blood Spot and Rolling Thunder. Then, she kissed his face. Chipmunk, Moon Runner's spirit thought when she accepted him as kin.

The yearling’s eyes glanced over to Wealda’s wounded hide. She stretched out her neck and took scent, not daring to touch the tender flesh. There was no smell of infection… but the unforgettable, noxious bile was smeared among her red hair.

Moon Runner recoiled. Though she did not know if the sick-smell caused the downfall of Dagonspine’s leaders, it remained a common thread between the latest tragedies. She glanced at Father and saw hurt in his eyes… but didn’t quite understand it.

Moon Runner stepped to the side, as if ready to accompany Wealda and Chipmunk to a den where they could rest and recover.