A sable she-wolf trotted on light feet through the trees and out into the open just above the lake. She was growing accustomed to this country, despite her disorienting charge into the area—having been blinded with grief and careless about the direction in which she was fleeing. Kane and Isola had been kind to her, and through them she had found her bearing once more, though her manner was demure and careful, as if she was half-afraid of breaking herself. The small wolf was uncertain if she believed what Isola had said about her lost love… Some days she did not know if she believed that death was what had severed their ties and not something else.

Beyond, more than a half dozen strangers pursued fresh young hares and dined upon their tender flesh. The smell of blood came to her nostrils from this distance, but Caithe found she had no stomach for a meal of any kind. Glancing to her right she spotted the dark shape of a male laying nearby and watching the goings on. Despite being just a bit wary of her own emotional stability, Caithe approached a kindly whine and a wave of her tail preceding a warm, feminine “Hello.” Sitting down slowly and watching the male with a polite wariness, she added, “Mind if I join you?”