Taryn Sullivan looked up hopefully as the healer emerged from the small hut. The look on his face soon dashed all hopes she had held as to the outcome for her friend. “Is there no way to save her then?” Taryn asked sadly, watching as two more healers and three of the finest veterinarians in the land filed quietly out as well. “I’m afraid not Taryn,” the master healer said gravely. “Her injuries were too numerous. We’ve tried everything we know but it’s only a matter of time now my dear. I’m so very sorry.” The healer patted Taryn’s shoulder and moved away. Taryn sat down heavily and placed her head in her hands. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d somehow been responsible for the fate of the Shamam and the rest of the Wolfkin. The scene they’d found still haunted her. So many bodies; so many more missing. And now it seemed the Elder Firehair was to be added to the list of the missing. Nothing the Shaman had muttered had made any sense. The fact that something evil had crawled out of the ground and wreaked havoc on the Wolfkins’ lair was obvious. What that evil was, however, was not so obvious. Maybe they’d missed a clue or overlooked something? Taryn turned her journal over in her hands. She couldn’t imagine how she could have possibly been responsible but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She also couldn’t shake the urgency that was growing to check on the other friends she’d met as well as looking over the Wolfkin lair one more time. She only hoped that she was being paranoid and the rest of her friends were safe. She opened her travel journal and turned the pages slowly from back to front. Yes, there. That’s the next group they’d check on. If all was well, it would be a chance to introduce the groups to each other. Taryn guessed they’d find out as she stood up and brushed off her skirt and headed into town. —————————————————————————– Meet Taryn Sullivan at the West Britain Counselor’s Hall, Sunday, March 9th at 4:00 p.m. Pacific.