She had heard the challenge ring out amongst the trees, ricocheting between the large trunks and piercing her heart and undoubtedly the heart of every resident of the forest pack. It was late and she stepped from the comfort of her den, pausing briefly to bury her nose in Zaphkiels neck, before embracing the cold winds of winter. Her large body stilled, waiting and barely breathing until she heard the answering tones of their leader. She breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and listening to the deep baritone notes of Coszcotl as he went to answer the challenge. She trusted him, had for some reason from the moment they met by chance and she knew undoubtedly that he would win this.

Despite telling herself this repeatedly she couldn’t abide the anxious feeling that seemed to be growing in her stomach. Standing around waiting was not an option, she would go insane, and so she did the only thing she knew how. She hunted. She prowled the borders of the land, nose to the ground and tracking anything that caught her attention. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but two raccoons and three squirrels later she heard the reassuring sound of his voice confirming that he had, as she expected, been victorious. Instantly the tightness in her chest vanished, her thick head lifting to the sky and meeting his own call with her low-alto song in response and shared joy before taking off. She veritably flew over the snow-covered grounds, her large paws eating up the ground as she made her way toward the den Coza shared with Moth, knowing that is likely where he would head first. It was in the heart of the territory, and with her kills hanging from her mouth she must have been an odd sight but she didn’t care.

She was nearing the site when she picked up his trail, slowing to make sure she was headed the right direction and narrowing her two-toned gaze at the dark blood that stained the ground. He was hurt. Hurriedly she dropped her bounty in the hollow of an oak tree, marking the spot to return and fetch them later, before taking off at a smooth lope so she would not miss him. She moved over the ground like a beast made from the snow itself, silent but for the crunch of snow beneath her paws. Finally she spies him, his brown and cream form limping with blood visible on multiple parts of him.

With one last push she was beside him, circling, examining, taking in the parts of him that were whole and the parts that weren’t. She wasn’t a healer, she didn’t know what to do in these situations, but if nothing else she could be here for him when he had been there for all of them. A low wine escapes her black lips, moving up alongside him so he could lean on her if he needed. She didn’t want to push too much in to his personal space but she was trying to offer help the only way she knew how. “I’m glad it was you who returned to us. I would have been very put out if I had to move,” her words are hoarse, an rare attempt at humor but perhaps enough to cheer him in her own way of extolling him for this win. Remind him of what he had fought for, not that she doubted his resolve even for a moment. She walks slowly alongside, waiting for the others she knew would be coming.