Jhaqun

Merys lay awake at High King's Crossing for a time, staring up from her bedroll at the roof of the tent above. In the distance, she heard some wolves howling in echoes to each other. Turning her head, she looked at the wolf lying beside her. He moaned out low notes in fitful sleep, occasionally twitching a leg or the edge of his muzzle. Though cleaned of the blood that once drenched him, and properly bandaged on his leg, it would be a long time til the Pup accepted the loss of his Lossoth companion.

A slight figure hobbled across the uneven hillside, occasionally pausing to crouch beside a tree to pluck berries off the vines. One by one, she dropped them into her cloak, which hung like a bag in her arm. With the rest of her company asleep in camp further downhill, the peace of Evendim's woodland was a welcome rest.  Yet over the sound of birds and the soft breeze of the wind, the wounded howl of a wolf is heard. 

Merys paused, straightening up to look around. The deer nearby did not move, so she returned to her picking.