J- A home without a swamp is still a home
#1
Toke was in wolf country, he knew. He had crossed a landbridge a few days past, and beginning a few days before that, the smells of packs had grown more and more frequent. He saw a lot a loners out and about the countryside hunting food, and looking for a home. He might not be wanted here, but it was worth a try. He was tired of moving around for months without end.
He missed his swamps, but his mama had made it abundantly clear to him that a yella' dog with 'wolf fever' was none-too-welcome in the swamp.
Up here, scores of moon turns to the north, past concrete jungles where the dogs were meaner and crueler than snakes and alligators...up here it seemed like all the wolves and coyotes and dogs had the fever. Maybe he'd be welcome here.
He had stopped on the border of a pack he did not know. He chose this one because he saw a crow in a tree sitting on the ninth branch from the ground with his head cocked to the left. That's good mojo, if nothing else. He nipped his own ankle, to remind him to bury some meat at the foot of this tree in the pack accepted him. He looked at the crow for a moment, and the crow looked back, soundlessly.

After a few seconds, the crow sat his head upright. Toke threw back his head and howled for the pack.


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