My head hung low, seeking those brilliant orange eyes of his. I wanted to know what had happened, who had dared to touch my friend in such a violent way; but more than that I wanted to know that he was okay. As he came bearing down his well worn track once more, I knew he had not seen me – that he was in some mindset that dulled his awareness. And so I spoke his name, softly, keeping my stature low and my presence calm until he stopped his motion and his eyes lifted slowly to mine. The way his gaze trickled up my legs, scrutinizing the moment as his brows furrowed, made my skin prickle in the most curious of ways. When our eyes have locked on to each other, we both lift our heads, standing opposite of one another and he breathes my name in answer to his own. Only when I see the way the barest edges of his maw lift does my tail give a singular wave, glad to know he is at least well enough to muster such a gesture. But the mars upon his body have not been forgotten, and like a spring flower the heat of anger blooms within my chest. I wanted to know who had done this to him, and why.

Though he claims to be fine, I can see better than that. One eye is swollen and his face is puffy where the tooth of another had raked open his flesh. My eyes flash over him, even as he reassures me that he was alright, taking in his other injuries before my gaze flashes back to his face as he claims that he deserved this. Both brows rise in speculation, unwilling to accept that this kind wolf that stood before me could have done anything to bring such anger down upon him. Maybe I did not know his past, how he had garnered the many scars that littered his face, but I knew that he was the type of wolf that would not allow me to stand near a river when lightning threatened to strike.

At his mention of his sibling being displeased to see him, my head cocked slightly to the side. Family ties could create incomparable strains, I knew this well enough from the example my Father and brother had set for me. But to go to this length to harm one who was of your own flesh and blood? The way he spoke of the situation – giving only the details required by my questions – and his accepting of the treatment he had endured, I could not help but wonder. From the first time I had met him I had been curious about his scars, what stories lay behind them. But these fresh wounds were almost like a form of compensation, atonement for some sin he had committed. I nearly pressed him for details, wanting to know more, but the slightest wag of his tail told me this was neither the time nor place. It was my hope that Jericho would stay – whether just until he was healed, or for much longer than that – and with time I would be given another opportunity to ask him about his past. And for him to learn about mine.

There is the slightest shift as his eyes drift over my form, and once more the prickling sensation tickles at my skin, raising invisible gooseflesh beneath my fur. Righting my head, I merely watch him, choosing not to comment on the explanation he had given, instead accepting it in silence. Once more my brows are given to lift in surprise as Jericho asks my forgiveness for tainting my home. A smile etched at my lips, and I shook my head lightly. “Worry not, Jericho; it is only blood and snow.” I stepped back and flicked my paw to the side, sinking it into the fresh snow beyond the trench he had formed and pulling it down to cover the red-stained track. “It is no matter,” I said, lifting my gaze to his once more. He stutters over his words, much like he had when we had met within the river’s grasp, and once more I feel a flutter in my abdomen, subconsciously pleased to know he had come here simply because he wanted to see me. But my brows pull together at his suggestion that he should go, and come back once he was healed.

“No!” I blurt out, losing the grace with which I usually spoke in my rush to ensure him that I did not wish for him to leave. I can feel the blush of heat rise to my cheeks, and I am thankful he cannot see such a thing. But in that moment I was reminded of the feel of his body against mine as I slept – the warmth between us within the cave, beside the river, as we ran through the rain. And more than anything I wanted that again, and I stepped forward to him, carefully touching my nose to the cheek opposite to his swollen eye, before withdrawing slightly. Now we stood much closer, not quite as close as at the river, but close enough to touch once more if he wished it. “Will you stay?” I asked, both concern and curiosity written in my eyes. “There are a few wolves in my pack that know the art of healing, perhaps they can help?” In truth I wanted him to stay just because he wanted to be around me as much as I wanted to be around him. But if that was not the case then the soothing paw of Niviaq or Ceal might be reason enough for him to stay for at least a little while.