Dawnlark Plains currant

He couldn’t help but think their names suited them. His lips twitched into a faint smile as the two began scenting, little Ruckus mirroring his mother’s every move. Little as he understood the situation, Cambria was glad Redd had returned, for the angry youngster’s sake.

I’m not opposed to hunting larger game, he offered as he, too, began sifting for leads. I could actually use the experience.

What could two—and a half—wolves handle? Cambria wasn’t certain, though he sensed that Redd knew exactly what she was doing. Despite her sickly frame, he sensed she was a natural leader. He would defer to her judgment on the matter.

He walked a little ways behind the pair, his eyes catching on Redd’s tail and wondering suddenly if she was the rise’s namesake. He blinked slowly, a dozen questions crowding the yearling’s brain. He turned them over slowly, trying to decide which to voice first.

Is the rise named after you? Or perhaps vice versa? he queried.

Cambria paused over a pile of droppings only to realize they had long since dried in the summer sun. He huffed out a breath and continued moving, pale ears pricked for the sound of Redd’s voice as his focus shifted between the ground he was sniffing and little Ruckus’s relaxed gait.