ohhhh this one was far more heartbreaking than I thought it'd be. maybe because of my inherent fondness for werewolves, because I identified with them a lot as a young girl (that's the undiagnosed autism, probably), their forced loss of what attached them to nature, to their family, to their identity, felt that much more painful. I wonder if this is somewhat of an allegory about colonialism? I'll have to read around it to find out. but a lovely piece regardless.

 I also read another piece in the short story collection named after this, which was so wonderfully atmospheric as well. Russell does a great job at environmental description.