Sleeping Dragon i could feel it from the start, couldn't stand to be apart

Having the greenery stripped clean by the locusts had put the packs on their toes. Injuries were harder to treat, and because of this the wolves who had come across injury were recovering slowly. The coywolf was still new; the sweet tenor of his voice had yet to cross each Dragon’s ear. He had set himself to work the minute he had been allowed entrance into the pack. Each day had been spent in search of minor herbs that were still salvageable. He had even tiptoed his way to the Oceanside once or twice for more a more difficult find. It kept him remarkably busy and out of trouble for a short while.
 
The lithe figure of the coywolf picked his way across the expanse of land with a peculiar thought on his mind. His canary-colored gaze travelled the stretch that was before him only to lock on a form that appeared entirely foreign to him. Dark lips curling, the slender male trekked forward until he could scent the wolf at his head. This one was new.
 
Ochre-tinged ears darted forward before falling back to his skull, and Gluskap followed the laborious movements of this dark creature with complete curiosity. “You do not look well,” his voice hissed through the air in the direction of Magpie. His sharp gaze locked with the form of the other wolf hungrily.