Big Salmon Lake The wreckoning.

She grew bored with the birdwatching, particularly when something—someone—a lot more interesting appeared. Towhee halted her step and swiveled to face the she-wolf approaching her. The sight of a reddish liquid splashed over her mouth and chest tripped an internal alarm, though she quickly realized it wasn’t the color of blood. And one sniff explained its origins.

Towhee might’ve wondered why a wolf would be slathered in berry juice, though an assessing glance explained that in part: she looked considerably underfed. It was resourceful of her to find an alternative food source, though the Redhawk was curious about her condition. And why there was something very vaguely familiar about the scent beneath the sugary tang of mulberries.

Hey, I think you missed a spot, Towhee joshed, pointing a toe at a small white patch in the middle of the stain on the younger woman’s chest.