Moving carefully through the forest, Conner hesitated, listening intently. He was sure he’d heard a sound. A soft, pained, whining sound. He wasn’t far from the trap he’d set to catch a rabbit, but this sound came from something much bigger than a rabbit. He hefted his weapon, a stout blackthorn stick, and crept forward.
From behind a thick bush, Conner carefully parted some branches and peered into the clearing ahead. His trap was in sight, a rabbit in it, but it was the young, black wolf lying nearby that made the pained noises.
The wolf raised its head and struggled to lick at its side where its fur was matted. Conner guessed the poor beast had hurt itself in some way. Easing the branches back into place so as not to startle the animal, Conner carefully made his way into the clearing.
