Sleepy Fox Hollow Sapling

Goat thought Crowfeather fixedly. The dark wolf was not certain he had ever hunted a goat. He had seen them scaling the mountains before, always just seemingly out of reach, always dangerously precarious with their leaps.

At the mention of frogs, the dark wolf puckered slightly. He was reminded of the medic wolf Vein, the one who had fed him. The memory did not sit well in his stomach.

Goat sounds good to me too. They like rocky places, I think.

The dark wolf glanced to Germanicus and then to his paws.

I don’t understand how they don’t fear falling.