Silver Creek what fell from grace

The moral of the story is, that if your sister runs off like a spoiled child to get a taste of the wild it was your responsibility to go looking for the bitch and drag her scrawny ass back home. Otherwise, your dad would rip you a nice new hole in your pelt. 

The problem with this moral? It didn't make any fucking sense. Yes, she was practically fresh into adulthood and probably couldn't take care of herself as well as Jarus could. Yes, she was tiny and probably starving to death right now...ok, so maybe it would be a good idea to bring her home.

But what if she didn't want to come home? What the hell was he supposed to do, carry her like a damn puppy? Come to think of it, he probably could. Still, Jarus had been traveling for nearly three months. That was three months too damn long. The rottweiler mix had lost his sister's scent, and then found it, and then of course lost it again. He still hadn't quite picked it up, though he had a general sense of where she was headed. It was the least human-populated place around going by the scent, and if it's one thing he knew about his little sis, it was that she hated people more than anything. Except maybe dad. 

For a long time the mountain of a man debated going after her into such a place. Sure, he had had times of wanderlust where he'd spent a few moons in the wild. Still, the black beast couldn't say it was a pleasure. Coming to a forked creek, Jarus paused to breathe in the new scents. Just as he thought, there was a trace of many canids on the wind. Great. Exactly what I need to be dealing with.