After her call had receded, she turned her muzzle to the earth hoping against hope that she might find the scent of a fallen comrade. Though the habit would do her no good, as the fresh snow and ice was all she could smell. Nature had done well to provide her with further complication, washing away the familiar scent of the Vale and her packmates and leaving nothing in its place save for a bland, cleaned slate. Her only hope now was that her voice would be heard and others were well enough to reach out. Though her expectations for this were understandably limited. Never the less she tried regardless, and kept her ears cupped forward in the instance a voice broke through the stillness.
And by fate, there was a sound! Croaked and strained by present none the less.
Foregoing her aimless scrounge through the snow, she charged toward the waning call while uttering her own in reply to let them know that she had heard. She charged as fast as her tired limbs would allow, pushing aside her fatigue to the back of her mind and masked her strain with the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. In minutes, she came across the downward slope of rock and ice, and too was met with the bitter tinge of blood on the air. One of her brethren was injured, but at the very least he was alive. Even in the darkness, she could make out the glossy side of her fellow warrior. A portion of him remained covered by snow, but his front at the very least was revealed for her to assess. Minding her steps, she approached him with care, whining softly to assure him that all would be well.
She walked around to his front and lowered her muzzle close to his. Carefully, she lapped away the blood from his maw hoping it would do something to ease his breathing. “I will have to move you,” she informed his carefully. “But I will not if you are in too much pain. Where do you hurt? Can you say?” She had hardly heard the male say much, but if she had some sort of an idea, it would have assist her in helping him greatly. |