Redtail Rise run rabbit run

Propriety told her not to eat it all, even if the woman had already had her fill. Noisily licking her chops, Masquerade backed away from the partially eaten rabbit and gazed over at the woman. She was no longer watching the pup, instead pursuing an insect through the grass.

When the she-wolf glanced over at her, Masque tensed, then relaxed. Slowly, she stepped over the rest of the rabbit’s remains and padded toward the stranger. The Bearn wondered about her. What was her name? Why was she here? Why had she shared her kill with Masquerade?

The woman had yet to say a word, though Masque didn’t find this strange. She had never spoken a word in her life, at least out loud. No one in her family said much, though none of them—Masquerade included—were dumb in either sense of the word. Even now, her brain flooded with cogent thoughts, she just chose not to articulate them.

She halted about two feet from the adult, head and tail lowered deferentially. It was easy to avert her eyes, which fixed on the woman’s prey: a stippled Schistocerca americana.