Qeya River I was following the pack

the boy speaks.

his words fall on deaf ears, momentarily, as blackfell turns on the raven and watches as it taunts him. perching itself up high in a dying branch. blackfell responds with the curl of his nose and then finally rests crimson eyes on the saatsine wolf.

it harasses me. he points out with the faintest twitch of ears, stepping over the small creek that flows before them. day and night.

it caws loudly then.