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Still Dreaming
"I heard the same thing from my cousin, and she's not the sort to lie," an old woman said. "She says there's this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell."
The man in the green cloak said, "I heard how this hellbitch walked into a village one day . . . a market day, people everywhere, and she walks in bold as you please and tears a baby from his mother's arms. When the tale reached Lord Mooton, him and his sons swore they'd put an end to her. They tracked her to her lair with a pack of wolfhounds, and barely escaped with their skins. Not one of those dogs came back, not one."
'Seriously? Eating babies are against wolves' nature.'
"That's just a story," Celandine blurted out before she could stop herself. "Wolves don't eat babies."
"And what would you know about it, lady?" asked the man in the green cloak.
'Oh. I am not invi
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