Dawn Treader Valley Það svíður mig í augun

Glimpses—only initially. Of wolf and ungulate fur, and then she lost them once more when an urge to move possessed the prey. A burst of half-hearted energy, an urge to leave, to escape.

And ultimately, it was all it took to spring Asenéth's limbs into motion, have her shifting gears into a lope, then a run that'd leave her in view of the elk and the stranger.

She'd not go for the animal, though—merely seek to circle both wolf and elk. Her tail was relaxed; it even wagged a couple of times. Her jaws were slack, panting: a wordless question of permission. A testing of the waters.

Winter was nearly upon them; she was uninterested in the possibility of a fight over food when herbs were so scarce.