Blackfoot Forest A hundred jewels between teeth

Pallas had not been far from Kierkegaard when Minna's call echoed in the forest. She lifted her haggard muzzle, her tired gaze fixing on Kierkegaard as he made for Minna's direction. There had been so little to eat that Pallas had avoided her packmates by and large; she found hunger made her irritable, which in term made her feckless. She was not about to repeat the same mistake she had with Liri if she could help it.

She fell in step behind Kierkegaard, her torn ears swiveling as they passed under tree and branch. Her breath was stolen from her then as she caught sight of the implausible, a sundappled, foraging band of does illuminated by angled amber pylons of sun. It was a majestic sight that Pallas was entirely unappreciative of, for it was only food she cared for. Eagerly she hunkered down into the brush, her starving gaze resting on the deer as she awaited instruction.