Even after the wolf was out of sight, Candle did not settle. She remained whale-eyed and bristling, pacing the ravine's perimeter. She snapped at any who came near. For hours she stayed like this, caught in a state of agitation that could not be soothed or distracted away.

After a time she managed to settle, and wept in silence. When she had dried her tears, she stole away to some dark corner of the ravine, shamed by her episode and unwilling to face the others. Nor did she want to address the root of her anxiety, the presence of the wolf and the possibility of more. If S'ari thought they could be friends, Candle was certain more would come. She didn't know what she would do then.

S'ari had observed Candle's strange and alarming behavior from a distance, until the coyote had run off somewhere to be alone. She'd let the matter go for a few hours, but worry nagged at the back of her brain like a tick burrowing deep into her flesh. Eventually, she set off to find her friend, following her scent trail, and saw her curled up somewhere, looking utterly depressed.

Feeling oddly bereft of words, S'ari could only approach slowly, with apprehension, and ask, Candle? Is... Is this one... all right now? Judging by the look on Candle's face, the answer was undoubtedly no, but... S'ari did not know what else to say.

She was not — and seeing S'ari made it better in some ways, but in other ways it was worse. Candle was hurt, perhaps unfairly so. She had trusted S'ari above the others, had accepted her readily as a leader and, by extension, a protector. That trust was damaged now; not broken, but tenuous.

Wolves; friends. How could she think such a thing?

Candle lifted her head from her forepaws and blinked once, her eyes red-rimmed and aching. She whined plaintively, questioningly, though she could not hope to express what she wanted to ask. Why would S'ari ever want to befriend a wolf? Would she bring them here?

S'ari was not psychic by any means, but Candle had only gotten this way after they had chased that wolf off, so she had to guess it had something to do with that. She took in Candle's bloodshot eyes and plaintive expression and felt her heart ache. Not knowing exactly what was wrong, she started with the first thing she thought of. No one got hurt, if that is your worry. Everyone is unharmed and safe. The wolf is gone now. She stepped closer to Candle, wanting to comfort her, but not knowing if the girl would accept any physical touch in that moment.

The wolf. If she was watching closely, perhaps S'ari noticed the way Candle tensed just for a moment when she heard those words. But she was aware that her prior aggression would have made the others understandably wary, so she quickly relaxed as S'ari approached, and after a few moments reached out herself to tuck her muzzle against her chest.

When she felt she had gathered her nerve enough for the attempt, Candle pulled away to try to speak. She took a deep breath and hummed a little to herself. She could do this, couldn't she? Just one word, just one. Candle frowned with the effort, humming a little more loudly now.

W- ww- olf, Her voice, never more than a whisper, broke off into a low hateful growl. Candle tensed again, and forced herself to relax. She looked at S'ari anxiously. Did she understand now?

S'ari was pleased when Candle accepted her touch, hoping this meant that the girl was a bit calmer now. She seemed to hide against S'ari's chest for a moment, and S'ari held very still, not wanting to set her off--Candle seemed so fragile sometimes, as if the slightest thing might upset her.

And then... and then Candle spoke. It was only one word, and not very well done, but S'ari had not heard a single thing come out of the girl's mouth since she'd said her own name days ago. S'ari stared at her in surprise, forgetting everything else for a moment, and then shook herself. Right. She said said, 'Wolf,' and then very clearly growled afterwards.

Hmm, S'ari began, sitting down. Does this one... have a history with wolves? Have they been unkind to her in the past? This would not surprise S'ari. She knows wolves can be... vicious to coyotes.

Candle nodded, her eyes filling with tears all over again as she recalled all that wolves had done to her. Horrors that could not be quantified, not even in words.

There were no words to express the feeling of being helpless, of seeing her sisters' blood turn the soil dark and hearing their screams shudder into the horrible rattling sounds of death, of being spared laughingly because her tormentors found humor in her shrieking.

There were no words to tell of the seething hopeless rage of being chased from one place to the next, starving, unable even to scavenge for fear of being accosted.

There were no words to hold the hatred that swelled in her heart, malignant, consuming. 

But maybe S'ari could see it in her eyes.

S'ari half-wished Candle could speak, to tell her all, but the other half of her was glad she would never know the specifics. She supposed she'd have to be very careful from now on, not to show kindness to wolves in front of the girl. This turned her stomach, as she thought of Meerkat and Towhee, two wolves who were clearly not out to harm her or her kind. But the Tribe was not for wolves; it had never been. The Tribe was a sanctuary for coyotes and hybrids. Wolves were allowed to visit, for trade, but never allowed to join, and it would stay that way.

This one is is so sorry, she murmured to Candle, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. Candle is safe here. The Tribe will protect her. This S'ari promises. A naïve promise, perhaps, but what else was she to say? She only wanted her friend to feel better.