Blackfeather Woods lay your hands on me while i'm bleeding dry

Inari waited, and a desire to leave did rise. He bit it back once, twice, and by the third time, he caught sight of someone. He tensed up and did eventually see the distinctive markings, although now worn by a body more threadbare than before. Inari's ears fell back and he swallowed thickly.

By scent of the borders, he had expected a strong pack residing here. Thus, somehow, he had mistakenly assumed that a pack wolf may not look so terribly ravaged by these trying times. Inari knew he looked pitiful because he could feel it in how miserable every waking moment felt, but he was on his own -- a scavenger on his best of days. Needless to say, he just hadn't expected Cicero to look that pulled towards death.

"Cicero," he said and dipped his snout. A nervous glance followed with him as his posture hung at a tense neutral. "I needed to leave the mountains, so I thought.. to stop here first if I could find these woods. I did remember you," he said with a lingering look over his gaunt frame. It had probably been longer than intended, but Inari had managed to keep him and his plateau pack search in mind.