“Will drove; Fern curled up on the backseat with Lougarry, barely able to sit up unaided, let alone stand. They stopped at a vet’s surgery that Will knew of on the way and the she-wolf’s leg was set and splinted, though they had some trouble persuading the vet that an overnight stay was undesirable. “What breed of dog is she?” he asked with burgeoning suspicion. “Mongrel,” suggested Gaynor. “Cousin to White Fang,” said Will. Fern had stayed in the car, sleeping. As they drove, there was little c...onversation: they were all tired and overburdened with their own thoughts. Tomorrow would be time enough to talk things through. Dawn had come and gone behind a bank of cloud, but when they crossed the high moor the sun broke cover, illuminating the green of spring on plateau and in hollow As they drew up in front of the house, its dour façade looked mellowed and welcoming to their eyes; Bradachin vanished, and Robin and Abby rushed out to meet them, and Mrs. Wicklow stood in the doorway, and on the slope beyond Ragginbone watched and waited, patient as a stone.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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