Blacktail Deer Plateau mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

It was that stench. Had it not been for the overwhelmingly familiar scent of sickness and strain so near to where Forrest slept, she might not have gotten up at all. And had it not been for the low whine some yards away from her cache, she might not have seen the pitifully ill babe lying in his den.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering how to proceed. If she went into this relatively tight space (Forrest had never been a small woman, after all), she would be putting herself at risk for whatever it was that he'd been unlucky enough to catch, but if she didn't, he might die. 

Damned if I do, she thought, damned if I don't.

Dove? she cooed, What's wrong? Prodding at the moist fur along his abdomen, she could feel how high his fever had become. That was her first priority, as a fever that high was a death sentence if left untreated. I wanna help you, babe. If you can, talk to me.