Emberflame Ridge Hollow's Lantern

This is an ugly country.

He hates the way the too-deep shade never relinquishes rays of sunlight. He hates how the air is dank and windless and never offers relief from stifling heat. He hates the piercing cries of corvids, and the all-encompassing chorus of leaves. The ground is hard and packed, there is no sand, there is no ocean, there is no joy.

This is a sad place.

His skin is welted from its battle with a field of mountain laurels. Judah rips out another chunk of scratching fur from his arm and grits his teeth.

His relationship with @John is strange. He could recognize that this pastor was a good man. There was a level of trust between them. But in his developmental months alone, Judah had lost the language that linked him to wolf-kind. Without his siblings for guidance, he was awkward and savage, never quite knowing what to say or how to act. So he didn’t bother with trying to reign in how he felt.

A clock beat over the face of the sun. Somewhere south of the minute hand was mom and Ava.