But now, the loss of two strong hunting bodies over the span of one week might doom the pack. The adolescent would have two fewer tongues to clean his face, two fewer warm bodies to curl against through the night. And also—also, Sean wouldn’t ever smell the forest through her wolf’s nose again, wouldn’t share in her pleasures or pains as she lay with her siblings, loped through a cold stream, cracked the bones of a squirrel between her jaws. The colors she saw for the first time, saturated and green-tinged and strange, weren’t hers any longer. Sean was even more alone than before.
