Firefly Glen [PHE] silver swords

He was frozen for a moment, mouth slightly agape, as the man spoke. Though he wasn't too much smaller than the average-sized wolf, he was still much his junior—and a stranger, to boot. To add to that, the invitation was more of a command, and Kitimat briefly looked around for his mother or some other Moontide adult.

None were in sight. So. . .

With a shrug, he carried on after Ancelin, trotting obediently at the Bearclaw wolf's flank. The two sped down the trail, skirting past various groups and flitting through the trees. And the smell of rabbit was growing stronger as they went—

The boy gasped quietly as he noticed powerful hindquarters and the unmistakable flash of fluffy white that marked their quarry's backside, moving at pace toward a heavily-thicketed portion of the forest.