Sleepy Fox Hollow einigung

From beyond the veil, Stigmata laughed.
“I am not dead just yet, brother.”

Threading her way beneath the slim boughs of the Hollow, River hunted. Her stomach demanded that a sacrifice come soon, but sustenance was not the only thing the lone wolf hungered for. Her eyes were starved for the iconography of her past; a craving that had brought her back to these mountains in the first place. Arrow Lake was remembered sharply in reverence, but she could not recall the lands surrounding it. Locating her birthplace -- and her father's grave -- was taking longer than she would have liked.

The runaway stilled as she became aware of another wolf's fresh scent drifting toward her on the wind, and her pace resumed at a slow angle away from them, as if to sneak by. Eventually, however, she could see him: nothing but a dark shape between the sparse, backlit trees. Yet something about his silhouette brought a spark to her eyes.

She suddenly knew why one of the scents at the perimeter she had deliberately crossed miles back felt familiar to her. Uncle? she called out across the distance, nose twitching.