The culprit made a sound like a guilty grumble. Another juvenile made a sound that could only be laughter. The next thing she knew, all the young Wolves had abandoned her and were engaged in a mock battle—lots of snarls and body bumps as they chased one another.

Tension eased from her shoulders as she picked up a black pencil. Ever since her hysterical warning had thwarted an attack on the Wolves, there were always a couple of juvenile Wolves keeping her company. More to the point, they were watching intently for any sign that she was going to do the crazy thing again. The youngsters weren’t sure what had happened or why; they just knew that the adults had responded to a threat they couldn’t see—and their Hope had given the warning howl in her own way.

So they watched her. So did the juvenile Hawks, Eagles, and Ravens. She’d even spotted one of the big golden Panthers watching her from a distance.

Maybe she should go inside and compose a letter to Meg Corbyn. Or ask Grace if she could go down to the communications cabin and send a short e-mail. She wasn’t sure what she would say, but it seemed important all of a sudden.

“Hope? What’s that?”

Hope blinked as she focused on Jackson, who was crouched beside her. Why did the sun look so bright? Had she fallen asleep? “What is what?”

He pointed to the paper. “That.”

She felt a little sick as she looked at the simple, almost childish drawing she didn’t remember creating.

An outline of Thaisia, with inverted Vs to indicate mountain ranges. Heavier lines marked the boundaries of the regions, although there was a heavier line dividing the Midwest Region into a north and south. Over one of those lines, she’d drawn a magnifying glass that revealed the poles and wires for the telephone and telegraph lines that ran along the shoulders of the roads. But there were no lines connecting the poles on either side of the regional boundary. Instead there were human skulls piled beside the road like a cairn, and the poles had deep claw marks.

Jackson took the paper, turned it over, and studied the half-finished drawing that showed a storm.

“Could I send an e-mail to Meg Corbyn?” Hope asked.

Those amber Wolf eyes studied her now. “Is there something you need to tell her?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to send one...” While I could, she finished silently.

“I have to contact Simon Wolfgard. I can tell him you asked about Meg.”

She heard a growl beneath his words. “Did I cause trouble again?”

“Warning us of trouble isn’t the same as causing it.” Jackson stood. “But don’t give peanut butter and bread to the pups. That’s food for you.”