The little silver-white fox flicked her tail and licked a paw primly. Unlike River, she could speak plainly in her animal form, and replied to Thrax with something of a challenge in her voice, "Oh, darling, don't press your luck."
River chuffed at her, and she was suddenly all business, nodding and darting off into the undergrowth on the wolf's heels.
They split off from one another as they neared the bandits' camp, Hana scampering to the left and River prowling to the right.
At least a dozen, River told her mate through the ever-strengthening connection they had in beastspeech.
To her surprise, Hana's voice chimed in to both: Sixteen, there's a few more asleep in the tent on this side.
