Neverwinter Forest lxviii. bring it on back, bring it on back

her breath came out in a thick, odorous mist as she stood shadowed by the thick, low evergreen canopy, watching the wolf from a distance.

the scent of others had baited her into coming so near what was obviously packland. her coat had grow out into a shaggy thing of rusty fawn, but it offered no protection against the harsh western winter. the deserter missed the warmth of the barracks, as stale and filled with cocksmell as they were.

out her throat came a sound that would be a howl, had her facial anatomy allowed for such a thing to be produced by her flattened features.

her call sounded a garbled mockery of her cousins'.