Broken Boulder half-dead

Ioa was vaguely aware of being dragged, the bumps along the way, the pain building in her scruff from being held there for so long. But she was barely conscious and felt these things through a tunnel-like filter. Noises sounded tinny and far away. Pain was reduced to strange tingling aches like fever chills that did not match what was happening to her body. Eventually, the movement stopped. She slipped into oblivion for what felt like hours…

But it was really only a minute or two. Soon, the scent of meat woke her, and quite suddenly, and with much more ferocity than she ever knew she was capable of possessing. There was food here. Her eyes snapped open and her head rose and before she could even look at what she was about to eat, she was tearing into the carcass like a madwoman, her fur poofed up and snarls issuing from her mouth as warnings for whoever was nearby to stay the fuck away from her food. All too soon, the meat was stripped and there was red fox fur littering the ground and Ioa’s cream-colored maw was red with blood.

She looked ‘round for more food with a wild, dangerous expression in her eyes—and saw the wolf who had saved her instead.

Her mood shifted so suddenly it might concern some wolves to witness it. Immediately, she hung her head, whined, and set her tail to a thumping wag on the ground, the very image of submissiveness. “Thank you,” she croaked, her usually quiet whispery voice cracking from lack of use.