The dark crow picked his way across a foggy valley in search of the cache he had started to feed with small rodents. In his narrow muzzle was a fat vole, clasped lightly between the sharp point of his fangs, but just enough so that it would not fall from his hold. Tadec had hoped that he would find Indra hustling about, but his Frith-touched friend had seemed in a state of busy movement since his arrival. Though he was not aware that her sister was carrying pups, he assumed that her work was important within the pack, and so he did not seek her specifically. Instead, he made to busy himself with what he could, and since the large white Alpha had threatened his life if he found the crow stealing anything, Tadec had set himself to hunting the smaller game in their territory and the surrounding lands. As his broomstick limbs carried him closer to his cache, the halfling picked up his pace and trotted across the stretch of flat earth.

Shortly after depositing his catch into the cache he had created, Tadec drew his salmon-colored tongue swiftly across the dark hairs of his muzzle before he fixed his gaze on the borders – the only ones that could be reached from the outside – and mustered enough courage to venture a patrol. His long limbs allowed for him to close distance quite easily, and it was only a short matter of time before he had arrived at the opening of the pack. The large rock was vacant, but the faint scent of the wolfdog female had been there and seemed to have been a prominent piece of the stone. Tadec sniffed about it for a few seconds before losing his interest and turning back to the mouth of the valley. It was there that he sighted a sullen and pale figure – one that was not familiar to him – spread out beyond their claim.
 
The thief did not anticipate that he would be fit for a fight, if one were to happen, but he approached her with careful steps nonetheless and announced his presence with a high yip. “What doing, strange wolf?” he asked her with an inspecting, narrowed brow. He was not certain if she belonged to their pack, or if she was waiting for someone to aid her in joining. Tadec knew that he was not suited to accept members, but he was more bothered that she appeared so dismal. Her frame appeared to have taken a terrible toll, and while it made the spindly coywolf wary, it also inspired him to step a few feet closer to her to examine the state of her being.

The crow was bewildered by the state of the pallid female. While it may have been considered impolite, he peered at her with a careful placing of his small paws and a concerned expression that tugged on the edges of his mouth, pulling them downward. The thief was a finder – an accumulator of differences – and the girl appeared as though she had endured an arduous act of malice. The large, dark ears cupped forward as she spoke to him. Her words were strangled and saddening.
 
Something within Tadec believed that she was beautiful for it.
 
Drawing the pink of his tongue across his dark muzzle, the crow smiled at her in a shriveled fashion. His eyes burned as he took another step closer and sniffed delicately at her coat. Tadec was careful, tense in his movements, and he positioned himself to leap away if she should lash against him. The stranger spoke of torture, harm, and she mentioned that she was hungry. Then, she inquired as to whether or not he understood her. For a moment, the burn of his stare softened with uncertainty and he cast a nervous glance over his slender frame and back into the mouth of the pack.
 
“Tadec understands. This one will feed you,” he offered her with the same shriveled smile. Then, the spindly coywolf turned on his heel and raced toward the nearest cache he had created. He searched as quickly as he could for a substantial meal.

Tadec searched feverishly for more than a vole or ferret in his trove of game. His narrow muzzle and sharp nose pushed those aside until the crow had found his preferred lapin. Scooping it and tugging it free, the halfling was forced to gain his bearings so that he might return to the poor stranger at the mouth of their valley. The fine, rawboned thief was grateful for their geography as he hastened to close the distance between his cache and the aperture of his home. Once back, Tadec was breathing heavily between his hare. He tiptoed on lengthy legs toward the pallid female and dropped the rabbit toward the front of her mouth. The flame-touched crow took a few steps in reverse and fixed his gaze on the woman with a pair of burning eyes. “Eat,” he advised.