South. He'd gone south. Momma was an anomaly in the north. In the south, there were more wolves that looked like her. There were more wolves that looked like dad, like dad's dad. Tama could feel an ache in his ribs. He was safe, he didn't look so much like them. A yearling just out running wild. A yearling out looking for his momma. As hard as the boy tried not to hold it against his father (dad was doing his best, right?)... how could he not? If he'd been doing a better job keeping her safe, this wouldn't have happened. The same went for his so-called grandfather. Tama supposed he should blame the viking king as well. If either of them had been doing their jobs, then momma would be fucking safe.
But she wasn't. And he was out looking for her. At the end of the day, Tamago was still just a boy. Just a boy in a world that was too big for him. Some predators were opportunists. A yearling on his own like this... perhaps he was coyote bait. He thought he could have made it to the safety of the Hallows (it's easy to understand who your friends are with a Klein surname), but it seemed he'd gotten lost. Turned around. Though Tama had managed to kill the coyote and make his escape, the boy was wounded.
Retreating to the safety of a pile of hollow aspen logs, the young man curled up tightly to lick his wounds. Stinging badly at the knee and below, Tama whimpered. Ow.
