Chapter 76: The Wild Boars (1)
At precisely unknown time in the night, the pines and oaks of Deeprow hemmed in the moon and whispered frost down onto the hollow.
The air, soaked in dew, seemed to ring with cold. Mist braided itself through the trunks, pooling low to the earth, and between the roots and toadstools, three piglets pressed themselves close: Dorsa, hunched and bristled; Porka, nostrils quivering at every shift in the fog; and runtish Runt, whose ears lay slicked to his skull as if awaiting a blow.
The scent of raw mushroom and fox urine stuck to every breath, but so did the taste of anticipation.
Across from them, Elder Thara paced atop a scabbed log, voice slick and sharp as wet bark. "Tomorrow you must return with your first kill," she hissed, more to the night itself than her trembling kin.
