Barrow Fields a victim of love rather than hate

he had wandered away again, except instead of going back to the place with the glowing bugs, the place where he'd broken down before, he went a different direction. no one was going to look for him. ziggy and lana had new friends, better friends. they didn't understand him, and cam didn't have the presence of mind to realize that he was shutting others out, not the other way around.

the slender dark youngster carried on across the field; the distant murmur, like someone whispering right in your ear, intrigued him. it was only when he spotted the other wolf that he came to a halt and stared at him silently for a few long moments, perplexed.

had he been better at reading expressions, cam would have noticed the sadness and pain etched into the man's features. as it was, he was more drawn to the strange pattern of the pelt—a black head, but a very pale body, unlike anything he'd seen before. the man looked like a wolf otherwise, but perhaps he was something else entirely. something of even more intrigue than the distant murmur.

there was only one way to find out. cam plodded toward the stranger, chin lifted as he shot the other a curious but ultimately suspicious gaze and intoned, pitching his voice over the wind, are you a wolf?