She had learnt her lesson the hard way, though she supposed it was a better way to learn than learning by the tooth and claw of pack. For whatever reason, the pack she had taken the strange girl to had been rather kind, or at least had chosen not to bite or chase her off. However, several days after having encountered the female, she had begun to feel a general uneasiness in her gut. In response, she had been fast to find a new hollow to rest within, coming out in the dusk to capture spring rabbits and retreating during the sun hours. Between it all, she had raided the wild berry bushes and chewed on the native grass. Somehow, she had averted whatever illness might have been brewing within her with minimal loss of weight or wellbeing. Her fur had even managed to hold though it seemed to lack its usual bounce; she had done well, and for that, she was glad. An illness so soon might have cost her very life.

When she had begun to feel her strength return, she had taken to exploring once more. Out of habit, she avoided the more northern reaches, convinced that the illness might dwell in such an area. She had been drawn, however, to the mouth of the river below the mountain. To the south, the land sunk in and become swamp by the smells of it so she supposed drinking upstream would be the best method of action. It felt good to finally enjoy the sun and fresh, moving water, so much so that she dipped her paws into the cool waters. The sun felt good against the flesh of her ears, the warmth working its way through the luxurious layers of fur. She had been holed up for too long, forced back into a stuffy den - the fresh air was a godsend, a wondrous thing. Still, she held a particular caution about her. Her ears never ceased to move, slowly rotating and twisting back and forth. Then, suddenly, one twisted back while the other shifted towards the light pitter patter of paws.

Instantly, her body became more rigged, an instinctive defensive posture before her bright eyes followed her ears towards a figure that moved along the banks. It took her a moment to put it all into perspective, for the form's size had initially thrown her off. Whereas Starshade might have been considered small, she was certainly not as well and dis proportioned as her apparent company. Still, she was still some distance away and downwind, which gave her time to continue her observations. A child and yet, completely alone. Not even the grass moved in an unnatural way, giving her the impression that no others lurked nearby. Of course, it raised the question as to why a child might be so alone.

At first, she moved cautiously, her head low and eyes fixated as her tail draped by her hocks. However, she gained confidence with each step, her eyes glancing to and fro until she was assured she was alone. It was then that her pace moved to a more comfortable amble, her head tilted slightly as her tail gave a single wave of greeting. For whatever reason, she had not quite learnt her lesson yet. Some part of her begged to reach out to the stranger, though it recoiled ever so slightly at the scent of others upon her. Pack? Perhaps, or perhaps merely the child's family. What had happened to them? She did not smell of blood. Starshade's first thought, which made her ear flinch back slightly, was that the sickness had taken them. Had it spread further? Was she once more at risk?

"Child, it is not normal to be alone so young," she spoke with a soft voice, always serious yet gentle, as she glanced once more from the grass fields to the whelp, "Where are your guardians?"

These wolves here might not have been the same as those from where she had come, but she was certain they all held similar views: a child so young was little more than prey for cougars and eagles and needed to lend the teeth and knowledge of their elders. So why had this one ventured into being alone?