For many months, the only contact Larkspur had was the horse. She had become needy and recognized his presence as the one that provided and protected her. The mare was not entirely stupid, but she certainly knew that of all the wolves they had crossed he alone had not been cruel to her. Larkspur had stolen the mare so he and Misery could travel easier and the results had been good to him. He did not know where the horse that Misery had was, but this was not his focus. His own mount served his purpose, and this was fine with him.
Eris’ voice rang out from the back of the mount. He looked up and met her bright eyes, seeing the same nervousness as before. Unsure of what to do, he was blunt. “I think so,” the wolf grunted. “A while ago,” he went on with a grunt. The wolf dropped his head to the ground. Wretch’s scent was fast fading, and he knew they were racing time. “Hold ont’a th’ horses mane,” he ordered sharply. With that, the wolf began to run west, mouth open to suck in deep breaths of air, endurance fair enough to carry him for miles. He feared how far the girl might have gone.
<style type="text/css">
.larkspur {width:400px; background-image:url('http://www.ghostecho.net/souls/larkspur.png'); background-position:bottom center; background-color:#BDAC9A; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid black;}
.larkspur2 {padding:10px 10px 165px 10px; font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; color:#fff; line-height:15px; text-align:justify;}
.larkspur b {color:#EACDB3;}
.larkspur p {text-indent:39px; margin:0px;}
.larkspur3 {background:#352A1E;padding:5px; filter:alpha(opacity=50); -moz-opacity:0.5; -khtml-opacity: 0.5; opacity: 0.5; border:1px solid black;}
</style>[/html]