He watched her, out of the corner of his eyes, as he went to sniff at the base of the hill on her right. His stomach was flip-flopping, the back of his throat heavy and dry as he studied the collection of bones. How did so many end up here? Was it all the work of one wolf, or was this where the neighbours dumbed their leftover bones? A grimace was etched across his tawny features as he pawed at another long bone—probably a leg bone. His ears twitched in her direction as she spoke once more, earning a gracious eye roll from the young agouti. He met her gaze, briefly, before returning it to the bones. His forehead had started to throb.
Perhaps one day he would get used to the colour orange, but not today. Not even tomorrow.
Maybe he’d throw me off the falls… he mused aloud, a ghost of smile tugging at his lips as he used a large (wolf? bear?) skull to step up on, his nose pointed toward the top of the hill. Do you think whoever did this is still around? He wasn’t sure what he would prefer: getting tossed off the falls by Askan or having his bones bleached in the sun in this dismal place.