Duck Lake dorn zunge

Sarah appreciated the stranger's willingness not spare her from contaminating her jaws again. He picked up the corpse, dragged it away without a comment and began to dig a grave. Not wishing to be outdone at least in this bit, she waited until the grave-to-be was big enough for two wolves to work on and helped the guy. After all there was a bit of Lost Creek Hollow pride to defend and she did not wish to pose herself as a coward or a slacker.

The man introduced himself as Mahler. Diaspora she had heard of, though the last time she had met a packmated of theirs with a different standing and attitude. When she recalled the meeting now, she was annoyed by the guy. This - on the other hand - was like a lukewarm water. He didn't bother you, unless you paid attention to him. 

"Sarah," she replied, looking briefly up from her work. "Lost Creek Hollow."