Redtail Rise run rabbit run

Sunday Morning heard the rustling of twigs, of leaves. Her yellow eyes shifted in search of the source, ears cupping. An eager, inviting whine spilled forth from her lips. Her head lifted for a moment. The child was not yet visible. Pine leaves shivered in the young ones wake, and Sunday Morning shifted on her haunches, loosing out several more whimpers of welcome. But Sunday Morning would not be the one to approach. She could sense the others shyness, and she rested her head again upon her forelegs.

The other soon crawled out from her hiding place. Sunday Morning's tail beat against the earth, but she did not move to engage except to nose the corpse closer to the girl. Bloodspot, for what looked like a bloodstain upon her face. In an effort to disarm, Sunday Morning rolled onto her side, lips parted as her tongue lolled to reveal a pleasant smile. Sunday Morning loved children, as most wolves within her family did.