Lion Head Mesa a-weema-weh

He licked his lips, twitched his tail, and turned his back as soon as the wolf slipped from his grasp. Given how limp the creature was, he assumed that the fall would kill him- or that nature would, before the sun rose the next day. It wasn't his concern. He had defended his territory and the young pup he had taken in, insuring her future for another day. 

His shoulder ached as he walked back toward her, and a few crimson streams of blood wove their way down his leg toward his ankle, leaving a little trail of droplets in his path. He approached Veritas calmly, and checked her over, fanning his whiskers out so that they could trace along her sides and back to reassure her. He smoothed the fur along her spine with gentle swipes of his tongue, and nuzzled the short fur at the nape of her neck. "Remember to clean the fur behind your ears, dear," He said quietly, and though his voice was warm, it was tired too. "Use your paw, like I showed you."