The creature- this wolf- had hidden itself in a thick bush filled with brambles. It had taken some work to get into, even more work to not bump the wolf's shoulder. Something they had failed at many a time, the pain filling the wolf-creature as the shard of flint dug deeper into its back and fresh blood warmed them. Reaching back, the so called spirit wolf had tried to pull it out and succeeded only in breaking the end of the shaft off, the head remained deep within its shoulder part of the shaft peeking through the furs. The awkwardness of it sitting right where paws could not grab it was problematic.

Elsewhere, the small band of consisting of whom the wolf had aptly dubbed the Sparkling Female, the Bird Man, and the Huntress were surrounded by forest noises. Something that had only paused during the spirit wolf's flight through the forest. The trail it had left was rather fresh, though undoubtedly the creature could lessen the amount of trail it left. Though not the blood that was smeared on a tree or a branch. Still the stream sang a song of moving life and the ice water it carried south towards the great salty sea. Cassandra would well know the trail would fade as time moved, and the possiblity of finding a wolf a second time was difficult. They were clever animals and the village had to deal with a rather large pack of them a near decade ago. It had not been a hunt but rather a battle as famine has famished the wolves. They were hungry and desperate, and Man came with food. With weapons and a danger, but with dogs and their own meat. Two of the Hunters had been badly injured and one had died. But the pack had been driven off and many of the wolves had fed and clothed the village. 

Kiyanna as she had looked upon the wolf the longest, would have seen it's eyes it was not so far away. They were sunken into the face of the monstrous wolf. Far deeper than they should have been. And white was all about them. It was a fleeting glimsp before the wolf-creature had turned and fled upon it's oddly bent two legs. The heel of each foot in the air, a slight limp to the run. The staggering of it's gait. All signs of a injury and a shot that struck most true. Ander may have picked up on this as well, but perhaps not completely. To him the wolf had cocked it's head to the side. A small, small movement. The ears flickering slightly as though it had never seen such colors. Let alone a person wearing them. In their travels the two might well know the dangers a pack of these fearsome creatures possessed. Wolves often watched travelers and some attacked though most left them be. To fight was to risk injury and there was easier prey than a human and their biting fire and sticks.

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