I was talking to Marta, one of the eldest she-wolves in our pack. And her close friend, Polly. Drinking some of Marta’s famed herbed tea. Polly was known as our Camp leather-crafter. And I was commissioning some work. I’d brought with me two plump squirrels, Hunter had left on the drying wire in the corner of our cottage. He often left me small animals there for trading within the camp for clothes or things I needed.
This isn’t a need.
It’s something I wanted for them.
As I sipped my tea conversing with the older women. Polly had thin bit of wood sharpened to a fine point. As I sat, she was diligently piercing smooth bits of leather to form my likeness on the small leather pendant.
“How are you and your mates, Vanna Rae?” Marta asked tenderly. “Have you fully recovered?”
“I h
