He quickened his pace after the scent laid out in front of him. The hunger drove him forward despite the sweat burning in his wounds. They had barely scabbed, but Wicken could not wait around for them to heal without some form of food to carry him through the coming week. He already felt tired and sluggish, but he carried on after the scent of a fawn. It had been such a slim chance, but Wicken had happened upon a deer and fawn in a small clearing. Now, he chased them for what he knew he needed.

The sting of his injuries were just a brutal reminder of rejection and betrayal, and they ached deeply as he loped across the area attempting to catch up to his new quarry. Wicken was a quick blur of dark fur with his head set even to his shoulders. It gave him an odd appearance to any that might glimpse him. A large, lanky wolf with too long legs whom held himself so restrained and awkward. The sun was soon to fall from the sky as it did every night, and he wanted to be full before he laid his head that very night. He soon found himself on the edge of a small stream, hesitating only to take a small drink before the sound of another revealed he was no alone. Wicken continued to face parallel from the stranger in hopes he would not be engaged.

Wicken said in dismay as he realized the wolf was speaking to him. He felt isolated and terrified in his current situation that was oh so reminiscent of the events that had transpired recently, and he felt even hungrier as he realized his quarry was soon to escape his grasp. Whatever grasp he had left. He flinched away from the sound of the strangers voice and faced awkwardly to the side with his eyes downcast to avoid the eyes of the wolf. Wicken had not spoken in days, so the words were hoarse and scratchy when they did come.

I'm just passing through. I... I'm just hungry is all, and there was food that passed this way. I will leave you to your business, and I'm sorry for the intrusion. Wicken tried his best to be polite to the stranger, and his voice revealed a youthful undertone despite the misuse. His stance was rigid as he prepared to dart for his safety in the event he was rushed for an attack. Wicken had no idea what to expect from wolves in these lands.

Wicken's inclination to dart to safety seemed to stall when the lunge did not come with the strangers proximity. He raised his eyes just long enough to see the warm brown of the strangers coat to determine how he appeared before they were once again lowered. He did not want to incite rage where it had not already manifested. His ears twitched from pinned to his skull as he listened to the strangers request.

He did not speak in reply, but Wicken did awkwardly hobble to the stream with his nose to the ground. The movement was painful and his back left leg gave at the pressure he put on it. The trail picked up right across the stream. It was stronger than when he had originally chased them, so he was confident they still had a chance to catch up. It appeared his encounter with the stranger had not stirred them up as he had feared. The breeze brought with it the scent, but the fresh hoof prints on the streams edge were evidence enough to any wolf with eyes.

He was grateful for the help, even if the sentiment hurt the remnants of a depleted ego. Wicken was in no state to refuse the help of another who offered it. He only hoped that he would not come to regret putting the prospect of food into another's hands. Here. His voice was a whisper as he nodded his head in the same direction of the hoof prints.