Urgon emerged from Zhura’s hut to a brisk evening wind, and Kraloch, ever the true friend, was waiting there for him. It had become their custom to return to the wolf hut to talk of Urgon’s visits to his beloved Zhura.
“I have an idea,” said Urgon. “You must tell me what you think.”
“I would love to,” replied Kraloch, “but could we seek shelter first?”
“A good idea. Come, we shall warm ourselves by the fire as we talk.”
They crossed the path, eager to be in out of the cold, Urgon taking the lead. He entered the hut and nearly tripped over Rockjaw. The old wolf had lain down against the door, perhaps feeling the need for some fresh air, but in the dark, Urgon had almost not seen him. He stopped short, then looked down at the poor beast, sensing something was wrong. He knelt, feeling the
