eyes on me

Humans will say that the eighth sense means a range of things but to wolves it is the sense of gliding across the ground knowing where not to tread. And the ninth sense? Well now, that's a secret. Overhead I hear the flapping of wings in the night. Bats abound in this part of the woods. They try to echolocate me but I ignore them. I head to The Caven where an enclave is being held. There are issues of great importance that must be discussed. Unfortunately, that means administration steps in and leads us in tiresome rituals of where and when and for how long howling should occur. Honestly, a wolf can't even take a quick trip these days without having to scent the specified trees. But, I'll disappear into the library when we are done and then it's off to hunt with my pack.