Lost Creek Hollow a lonesome star in a bitter sky

Harlyn wouldn't know for certain for days, but as she strode through the quiet of her woodland home, a happy contentment was upon her that made her feel confident that in a couple months, the Hollow would be welcoming a new generation. The thought caused a smile to curl across her lips as she pictured it, and though it would have been too presumptuous to thank the gods for their gift, so she simply said a prayer for the health and safety of her loved ones - including those she had yet to meet.

As fate would have it, she had whispered that prayer too late.  It was only a few minutes later that a scent came to her upon the wind.  Harlyn recognized Mordecai immediately, but before her smile could broaden even a millimeter, the rest came to her like a blast in the face.  There were other scents as well - one canine, but not wolf, and another.  Feline.  And mingled over it all was the unmistakable sting of blood.

Her heart in her throat, the druid broke into a sprint.  The trunks of trees went by in a blur, Harlyn artfully dodging them as she wove along until finally, she spotted his crumpled, mangled form.  She whined desperately as she sped to his side, slowing to a stop just before him.  "No, no no no no..." she murmured fearfully, wanting to reach for him but knowing better than to overwhelm an injured wolf even though she knew this one intimately, "Mordecai..."