“Something like that,” smiled Stone. Neroo changed the topic of conversation. “So what do you think it is, Stone, the beast we hunt? It’s not wolves; they don’t come this far south. And it’s certainly not the plains dogs.” A plaintive howl in the distance served to punctuate his statement, as though the roaming packs had been listening intently for someone to mention them. “The damage at the hut, no dog could have done that, no chance.” Stone nodded, but didn’t reply just yet. “You must have seen something on your travels, some manner of beast large enough to do that?” His tone was light, but an undercurrent of nervousness ran beneath it. The other youths were quiet, listening too. Stone thought for a second, brief flashes of memory flicking in front of his eyes, but nothing too coherent.
