Big Salmon Lake And the grass all smells the same

A pair of crisping bushes rustled in resignation, and Needle slunk from between them with the air of a smug cat.

About time you noticed, she sassed, self-satisfied. What are you half deaf, too?

The girl kept a certain radius between them, training her eyes on the gargoyle with careful concentration. She wasn’t going to let him just waltz up to her this time. Not again.

He’s not a threat. He’s all talk.

The mantra she kept to still her heart. Once all the nervousness had dissipated from their first meeting, she had convinced herself that she’d been all riled up for nothing.

He’s not a threat.

It was foolish to follow him, she knew, to stalk him for days as she had. But he was the only wolf she had come across since abandoning the rogues, and she hadn’t been alone this long since getting herself lost the first time. The quiet disturbed her. And hunting the gray wolf made things less quiet.

He’s all talk.

Where are you going, anyway?