Command of the Wolf
Isabella watched it with careful, assessing eyes as it lay down in the hay, favoring its front right leg.
“He’s gone lame,” a feminine voice said from behind them.
Isabella twisted toward the sound. A dark-skinned woman, around these parts likely Native American, stood with her hands on her hips, watching them. She wore cowgirl boots and a Stetson, and if the dirt and hay on her clothes were any indication, she’d been working out here or in the pasture for the better part of the day.
“Elizabeth, this is Naomi,” Layla said, introducing the woman. “Naomi, this is Elizabeth. She’s new here.”
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