Bearclaw Valley Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about?

smoke stung his nose and chased ancelin with a brief anxiety, one dispelled by ameline's chuff.
pushing away from the sentinel stone, he squared his variegated shoulders and stood with upraised plume and railroad-spiked hackles, posturing as knight while his queen watched from over his head.
a shadow approached.
the bearclaws were ready to drink more blood.
his teeth glinted in the tinged light, ready to catch the eye of any interloper who sought the valley's single entrance, and then ancelin was racing forward, seeking awareness of this wolf beneath the flicker of firesmoke in the atmosphere.