This had to be one of the oddest things to ever happen to him. He had fought bears and waged wars, but never in his life would he have expected to be traipsing across the land with a small pup in his mouth. His life was rather regimented; a constant cycle that while perhaps a bit dull from time to time was decidedly consistent, yet finding the small brown pup in nestled deep in the roots of an old tree had somehow tilted his world on end. He wasn’t the type to just leave the girl there, for no doubt she wouldn’t last much longer in her current state and he couldn’t quite living having ‘child killer’ on his conscious. So he had picked her up, much lighter and smaller than she ought to have been he thought, but the way she attempted to fight back with needle sharp teeth bared and high squeaky growls brought the hints of a smile to his black lips. She had fight left in her at least, of that he was sure.

It didn’t last too long and by the time he had settled her between his large paws she had grown quiet once more which caused genuine concern to lace through his baritone call to anyone and everyone who might just be able to help them. It still reverberated over the moors as his electric green eyes turned back to the small girl began to lick as the white hairs that covered his sizeable feet that caused her to look so miniscule. Whatever qualms he had about what he had done disappeared at that moment, his hard heart successfully melted. He lowered his thick head, his pink tongue flashing out to gently begin cleaning the girl of the dirt and mud that seemed determined to cling to her fragile form. “There there…” he mused as he worked, unsure if she could either hear or understand him, at what age did they start talking? “We’ll figure it out.” He hoped.

He nosed her so she lay on her back, cradled between his feet to clean her undersides when he both felt and heard the rumble of her tiny stomach. “Oh, you must be hungry,” he said with a touch of shame that he had not thought of it before and concern about how to go about it. Did she still need a mother’s milk? He thought there might have been a she wolf that had given birth last season, but he wasn’t well acquainted enough with anyone to know who. Perhaps he should have been more social after all, oh how he wished someone would answer his call! He couldn’t bear the idea that she was starving in front of him so he stood suddenly, looking down very seriously into her tender face. “Sit… uh… stay, here,” he said finally, hoping she would understand, “I’ll see what I can find.”

Turning over his shoulder almost constantly he trotted a short distance away, wet nose to the marshy ground in the hopes of catching some scent or another. As luck would have it he practically walked on top of a family of field mice. With quick, practiced moves he managed to catch three of them, returning to where he had left his charge and thanking whomever that she hadn’t moved much if at all. With little ceremony he plopped the three mice before her, already dead but still very warm before lying in front of her as well. His crimson and white head tilted to the side of he watched, eager to see her reaction and hoping this would work, if it didn’t he wasn’t sure what he would do next.