Salivating at the thought of even a measly squirrel – heck, a crow would do at this point – Denza pouted onward. He had been padding through the forest all day, on his way... well... he didn't quite know. Anywhere except here. All he knew was that if he kept in this direction, he would be out of the section of the woods most animals typically lived in, and probably closer to the humans. Which, at this point, was better than staying where he had come from. He huffed as he realized he had reached yet another place where every tree had been sawed down by the humans, and offered him no comfort. Ducking his head, he sniffed at the air. Nothing for as far as his nose could smell. A young wolf at 2 years old, he was just barely old enough to accompany his parents on pack hunts – and he was still too small and scrawny to have been invited anyway.

Humans had come into various sections of his forest and taken out the trees. Odd to Denza, his pack, and from what he had heard through their gossip, other species as well. They had all heard the crows in the trees gabbling about it. Of course it was Cadenza's brother who had dreamed about it and their parents, who at first had shrugged it off, had decided that it was time to move the entire pack. Denza and his sister, Thrush had protested – where will we go? They had asked. How do we know we will be safe? To which the remainder of the small pack had shushed them, telling them to never question and only do as they were told.

So Denza and Thrush had foolishly sneaked off, on their own, to find the crows and talk to them, to bring sense to their parents and the rest of the pack. Except that when they found them, the crows were flying furiously back in the direction they had come, screaming and shouting, and then Denza and Thrush found themselves pursued by baying, floppy-faced dogs and humans with thunder shooters. They had become separated quickly, Thrush following some crows one way and Denza dashing blindly and stupidly away. Thrush, hopefully, had done the smart thing. Denza had now been lost in the forest for 2 whole days on his own. He had cried out a few times on the eve of the first full day, but quickly found that his vulnerable voice only pinpointed his location in the now eerily silent woods.

Where he stood now, he could smell the humans' camp nearby and his stomach growled along with his snarl in agitation as he realized he had hardly made it very far. To his right, the trees thinned out and he could easily see the humans and their horses. The trees they had cut down were either cut some more and made into a fence for the horses, or even made into homes for the humans. The rest of the trees were burned at night, presumably for the humans to stay warm. Denza thought it stupid, as they would only attract danger – but then, maybe nothing hunted the humans at all. Maybe they were the last undefeated danger that the rest of the woods had to beware of. He didn't know.

He sniffled a little as he shifted his paws and looked back at the ground where he could see soft imprints of his own pawpads in the loose shoveled dirt. His family hadn't once called for him. Maybe they didn't care if he died. Maybe he was a distraction for them to all get away. His stomach rumbled again and he forced himself onward. He wondered vaguely, what would happen if he ran straight down into the humans' encampment and stole some of their food... he could smell meat and... was that ocean water? Salt? Whatever it was it smelled delicious and it was strong. Denza looked again and saw some strange looking animal stuck on a stick and roasting over the fire. Indifferent to it's death, he did wonder why the crows hadn't come yet to pick at it. They were much harder to catch than a wolf his size, at least in his experience.

He shook his small ruff of fur and made his way onward. He fought his exhaustion to stick to the edge of the hill that tumbled down toward the end of the forest. After what seemed like only a few minutes of wandering and sniffing, he saw something glowing on the ground up ahead. Unafraid, knowing the humans were behind him, he rushed forward to give it a closer look.

It smelled wet, and looked like any old mushroom that would often grow on old moist logs, or bases of trees. Except this one was in the middle of the earth and it was glowing a subtle halo of green. A truly odd visual for any creature of the woods. He cocked his head at it for a moment, wondering how it got there.

“Maybe it's magic!” Thrush would have said. But Denza knew better. There was no such thing as magic. It was just an unusual find. And if all other mushrooms he had been forced to eat by his mother on rough days were safe, then so was this.

Taking a small breath, he leaned down to pluck the mushroom from the ground. As he got closer, his whiskers tingled with an unnerving feeling and he had a strange urge to suddenly not eat at all -

“No!” a voice screeched from somewhere nearby.

Denza's head jerked upwards and he looked into the branches for a crow. No one.

“Don't... don't eat it.”

He looked to his left. Just behind a tree a few jumps away was a young wolf, probably no older than he. Huffing and drawing himself up a little, he glared at her. How long had she been there? Had he really become so exhausted that he had let his guard down so?

“Why not?”

“They're not safe.” The wolf peeked out a little further from behind the tree. “Haven't you seen the things that eat them?”

Denza narrowed his eyes, but stepped back. “Who eats them?”

The little wolf stepped out from behind the tree but kept her distance. She had pretty, slanting eyes, and a pale squirrel-colored coat. Beneath her eyes were some small flecks, like the freckles on Thrush's belly and paws.

“I don't know... what they are.” her voice was thin, barely audible to hear. “But... you're fortunate to not have run into them.” She dropped her eyes and said no more.

He stepped towards her and noticed her eyes flick back up to him, defensively, but she said nothing.

“Have you seen them?” His stomach growled again but he ignored it. Maybe she knew were to find food.

“Yes,” she whispered. “They killed my family.” She clenched her jaws together, clearly fighting off tears, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “They killed them all, right in front of me.”

“You got away?”

She looked back at him, clearly unappreciative at his lack of tact. “My sister sacrificed herself for me to escape. I had to.” She looked away.

Denza was almost directly in front her now, and he could see small scrapes along her muzzle and face where she must have collided with tree branches while running. They looked at least a few days old.

He felt only mild sympathy toward her. It was, as he had learned, the way of the wild, sometimes. Better to just accept it and move along. His stomach was beginning to hurt even more. “Do you know where to find food?”

“No,” she whispered, looking away from him pointedly. “I haven't eaten in days.”

Denza just nodded. They stood silently for a few heartbeats, not looking at each other.

Unable to stand there unproductively any longer, Denza began to lean away, “Well....”

The wolf's eyes shot up to search his face. “Where will you go?”

Denza shrugged, tilting his head to the side.

The female hesitated, then turned to face the same direction. “Are you headed anywhere... safe?” Her voice was almost monotone, deadpan. Her eyes were tired and unfocused on the ground. Denza just shook his head.

“You?”

“I've... heard of a few places,” the female began, slowly making her way forward beside him. “I just want to get away from here.”

Denza grunted in agreement.

“May I go with you?” she asked, ears swiveled back, eyes wide, pleading. Denza just looked back calmly.

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking away again. It couldn't harm him to have a travel companion – two were better than one single, young and small wolf in unfamiliar woods.

The female sighed in relief and quickened her pace. “I'm Lorza.”

“Denza.” The grey male gave a curt nod.

“It will be good,” Lorza began, “to finally see a friendly face.”