past grandmother’s house we go

After tightening all the right things in all the right places Sunder plopped his leather clad buns down in the snow to wait. The cold had just enough time to seep through all his layers before someone showed up. Sunder popped up immediately, the picture of enthusiasm. He thought nothing of the man’s mask or any of the other things that might give another wolf pause. Why would he, when he himself was wearing seven different kinds of furs and fabrics?

If Sunder was at all bothered by the first words out of the wolf’s mouth, it didn’t show. He laughed good-naturedly and replied, “I neva had none. Well, except dis patch here,” he held a booted paw up to his chest as though the wolf could see the skin below. Because he could not, the joke Sunder was trying to make was almost lost entirely; there had never been any hair there. “But I had my broda wax it.” He pretended to shudder. “I canna stand a hair anywhere.”

He nodded emphatically when asked if he’d called. “I did, yeah. Dis confounding maze has me running circles and I tought if imma run in circles I may as well make a game of it, ya know? So how’s about a race t’rough da maze? If ya tink you can keep up wit a hairless dog, dat is…”