Dawnlark Plains wanted: big bad wolf

heard voices. Sam's grandmother had tended towards a similar flavor of delulu towards the end of her life, but she had been pudhing 8 years old. And 9 times out if 10, the voices she heard had come from Sam and his cousins hiding in the undergrowth.

"Well what do they say?" Sam needled. She parroted something that a loved one had likely said to spare her feelings, and declared that he asked a lot of questions. The grey boy huffed. "Only because YOU never really answer. You're a weird blind wolf that hears voices and you don't want to think too hard about how crazy you sound."

Despite all that, he still nudged her gently around an upcoming boulder. "Where are your friends?" he asked, then added, "Yeah, yeah, another question." She was alive – hungry, sure, but not so emaciated as to suggest that her friends were imaginary.  He needed to hand her off to whoever these weirdos were and get moving on the right direction again.