Moonstone Quarry ^____________________________^

Tiuttuk stared at the hole in absolute revulsion. Something about the sight made her itch. But not just skindeep. No, it made her itch down to the marrow of her bones. No, deeper. It made her soul itch. She had been infested.

A quiet boof made her jump, eyes finally tearing away from the hideous wound. A slender woman sat primly a short distance away, her fur a contrasting blend of russet and white. There was curiosity in her fiery gaze and the slight cant of her head.

Swiveling to face the stranger—and put her repulsive thigh out of sight—Pie tentatively returned the woof. She took a few steps toward the other she-wolf, wincing a little at the ache in her violated flesh. Cicero had said there were healers in this place, though she didn’t want anybody near her godawful lesion.

Greetings, she said, coming to a halt a few yards from the fire-kissed female. Had she witnessed that whole debacle? Ignoring that possibility, Treepie queried, This is Forneskja, isn’t it?