Barrow Fields wayward

Aureli, too, was traveling slowly. This was partially because he knew he needed to pace himself, and partially because his familiar was darting in and out of the waves, panting like a demon each time she clawed her way out of the water and raced higher up the beach.

And, well — he had no place to be. Why rush?

But...

"Come away from there," he ordered the little cat, who ignored him. "Moke. Come here."

The cat ignored him and began digging in the wet sand. Aureli sighed, standing vigil for a moment while the hole filled the salt water, and then the crest of the wave came to knock the cat off her paws.

Politely, he did not say, I tried to warn you. Mainly because he was sure the cat was still deaf to his chiding. Instead, he turned away from the beach entirely and began the steep climb up toward the headlands. The cat caught up eventually, stinking of the sea, and Aureli heaved another put-upon sigh. They did not speak (and she couldn't, as far as he knew) until long after they'd reached the rolling fields. As they crested the next hill, however, Aureli stilled.

There was another wolf heading straight for them.

"Stay down, dear one," he said to the cat, stepping neatly away from her. His steps were purposeful as he headed down the hill, barking a greeting to the stranger to get their attention. His body language was cautiously friendly, but his eyes were hawk-like as he assessed what sort of threat she might be.

He had taken a vow to do no harm to his fellow wolf, after all. It behooved one of his sacred order to know when and how to R U N N O F T.