Sleepy Fox Hollow Last long enough to go extinct,

Three steps forward and the deer was aware of them.

Her slender neck raised, a tuft of winter-dried grass in her jaws. Her long ears flicked, brown eyes round with surprise. She wheeled upon her hind end, stumbling as weight was pressed on her left hind. In bounding strides she cleared the copse while two wolves thundered behind her.

Anselm kept his gaze on the fleeting figure, marking her tawny pelt as it darted between tall saplings and bare bushes.

He lunged for a hind but fell short. She managed a surprisingly athletic leap out of his fangs.

But she was wounded; he could smell the blood and the sick and the fear upon her --

just a few more minutes, maybe. Anselm eased into a comfortable lope behind her. Somewhere he heard Etienne to his left; his ears flicked in his direction, wondering if he would make a move or like him, chase at a distance.