Whitewater Gorge Floating

Thus sympathies were swapped and Finley was left wondering if she ought to have said something. When Colin turned the questioning to her, Derg’s focus following suit, she momentarily wondered if he was asking for her condolences. But neither of the males’ eyes betrayed judgment, nor had she detected ulterior motives from either. It seemed some wolves were simply content to pass the time exchanging past trials—and as packmates, she supposed, it wouldn’t hurt to tell.

“Can’t say it’s anything sad,” Finley said, with a casual sway of her tail. “I failed my pack’s initiation spar. I’ve been training since.” She spoke as though the implication of her failure was obvious, and that the loss itself was significant as missing that one deer on a hunt of yore—an unfortunate yet mundane turn of circumstance, and little more.