Thanks! 
The woman’s voice called out, breaking his meditation. Larkspur rose to his full height, a burly black wolf with patches of white across his pelt, and saw that she was a coyote. Almost instantly his body language changed, displaying hints of aggression. He was no friend of their kind, blaming the clan to the north for the disruption of his life. Orange eyes gleamed in the half-light of the building. She wanted to help? He grunted, finding this odd.
The wind turned, bringing with it her scent. She was not from Inferni. Another pack was laced through her coat, one he recognized only because of its proximity to the city. It was a mark against them to accept coyotes into a wolf pack. His frown deepened. Like it or not, he did need help—he couldn’t read and he didn’t want to waste time going through the hundreds of buildings in the small area he had designated for his search. “Yea,” he grunted, climbing out of the crumbling ruins. “I’m lookin’ for glass jars.”
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