Blackfeather Woods The changeless thing that lurks behind superficial mutability

Ramsay's humped shoulders tensed when Tundra spun toward him, but he forced himself to relax again when he realized she was not angry or displeased with what he asked. That ever-present wariness was hard to shake; he was so used to being out on his own with only his brother to rely on that he sometimes forgot he had others now. The accompanying smile was unsettling, but having been raised in an unsettling environment, Ramsay managed to avoid the chill that might have stolen down another wolf's spine.

His indigo eyes flicked briefly to the crow. With no knowledge of its significance to Tundra, he assumed it was just one of dozens of birds in the woods winging information between them. Do not take unnecessary risks, he cautioned with a grim pull to his lips. This was information Ramsay very much wanted to have, but losing Tundra for a little reconnaissance would not be worth it. That was all he intended to say, but she stopped him with his name.

Yes? he asked quietly, and then blinked in confusion when she had said what she had to say. We all do what we must, Ramsay said, frowning slightly, but the purpose behind Tundra telling him that was not forthcoming. He would be left to mull over it for a while; in the end, he was glad she was able to exercise free will at all and left the handling of her task completely in her paws, whether she conducted it as a soldier or in her own way.