Dancers and Highsteppers [Amos]

He’d been sorting herbs, pondering the next lesson to be held for the pack’s healing inclined wolves when his young cousin called for him. Ears perking, he rose from the pile, making a mental note of where he’d stopped off – ‘H’ for Helonias Root, or Blazing Star, and useful for stopping bleeding and miscarriages – as he trotted out of his alcove, brows lifting as he studied the shimmering white girl.

Her dirty brown muzzle had faded to the same pristine white base over the last month or so as the last of her puppy fur had shed out to be replaced by the adult fur. At her question, he nodded, rather glad for the distraction. Sterling hadn’t come back from her traveling and it made him feel oddly sad. But she hadn’t been under an obligation to stay, and she hadn’t been fully comfortable living here. Perhaps it was for the best.

He followed Aurielle to her chosen sparring place and as she called for the boy, Amos, he chose a spot on the boulder and settled on it, belly against the stone and crossed his fore-paws, ears perked with interest as he scanned the Plains for an approaching figure.