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Wenda sat before the heat of the Yule fire, feeling the last chill leave her fingers. She sighed. Mara had been quiet, sitting beside her, in a calming way. Here was one at last that Wenda felt she could have as friend.
White Paw was watching Wenda, his nose twitching inquisitively. He looked to have a wolf in his forebears, not so many whelpings agone. With the heat of the fire, his mouth opened in a big smile, his quick tongue sticking out between his two wolf teeth. Wenda smiled and reached out a welcoming hand. He sniffed it and touched it with his tongue, then looked up at her and smiled the more.
"He likes you," the boy said.
"And I him," Wenda said. She scratched White Paw behind the ears. "Maybe I should take me dogs to my sledge once Pada and Muna have done. Not long now."
Wenda frowned. Such talk was foolishness. She was not like to live out the the next day or so. She could overhear talk here and there, all of it seemingly including her own name. And plans, she heard them saying. What plan might one make against something as fell as that? Surely it was beyond any of them! Goody seemed to understand that; but then she had looked askance at Stamo and Mori.
Wenda spoke up.
"Goody," she said, kneading the fur under White Paw's neck, "do you know somewhat?"
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