His senses had never been sharp. While he guarded the boundaries of the Great Tribe, a few younger wolves had had it easy sneaking past him. He’d gotten rebuked, of course, because what if they had been enemies? Everyone would have died, was bloody well what, and everyone did die—or almost everyone. Some people died. It seemed like a lot. Now, where was he?
His senses had never been sharp, and so it wasn’t until the luperci spoke that he realized there was even one nearby. One big ear flicked back, the scar near his eye twitched, and he turned around with painful slowness. His tired body gave another tremble as he tried to size the stranger up from where he was sitting hunched on the forest floor. She was young, but she was way bigger than he was. Wasn’t everyone?
“Hello, osiyo, all of that,” Unatsikanogeni replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Gado usdi hnadvga nihi aduladi?” he muttered in Cherokee, and again in English, “What do you want?” He was too tired—too hungry—to get up to properly address her. “Do you want to eat me? I’d want to eat me. You’ve got a lot more meat on you, though, probably too tough for my tastes.” He tried to smile.
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