Dawnlark Plains currant

Her answer was cursory, though informative. Perhaps her mother had founded the rise, which prevailed in her absence. Cambria’s lips pursed as he mulled this information between sniffs. Was she gone, like his mother, or gone? Was she perhaps a victim of the malaise which had recently afflicted this pack?

The rise seems like a very resilient pack, he mulled aloud.

Redd and Ruckus struck a trail, so the Blod trotted after them. The scent of deer threaded into his nose, a little stale but still promising. The yearling let out a breath, hoping he was up to whatever task the red she-wolf might put in front of him.

Was Wealda her name? Or her title? he wondered aloud, keeping his voice low.

He knew precious few names, despite living among these wolves for weeks now. There was Mulherin, and now Redd and Ruckus. But Cambria knew the others only by the titles given to him by Berserkr. And ranks could change, he knew now. With a flick of his tail, he wondered if Redd might know know the proper names of Ulfhedinn, his mate and their children.