Jade Fern Grove pilot

look. his eyes drift to her toes as she mirrors his own action. her question hangs in the air, and evenfall looks above to where sol filters in from above, scarcely visible through the foggy mist. each dawn, we say a prayer to sol. each meal, we give sol a bite of our food. each dusk, we say another prayer, asking that sol may return to brighten the next day.

smell. as he inhales, the wolf senses the small particles of water.

taste. his tongue roves along his upper lip, bringing with it the taste of the cool water that collects there.