The Sentinels Day by day

Sam had left the stolen pup in @Sobeille's care and all but sprinted home. There would be retribution. Someone would come for him. The mother, the pack – perhaps the babe itself,  when it was old enough to pronounce, require, and enact revenge.

Until he knew where he stood, Sam would lay low. He was doing just that in a patch of impossibly spongy clover when a shockingly white creature caught his attention. It was running – sprinting through the woods, tripping hazards be damned. Kiboo? Kabongbing?

The grey wolf rolled onto his belly, stretched, then stood before he shot a bark in her direction. With a slightly raised voice he called "What, uh... what time do you call this, huh?" and immediately regretted his choice of Uncle Joke.