Silvertip Mountain Giving up, going in

The rabbit he'd eaten earlier was gurgling in his belly, twisting and moving like it was knitting itself back together. Grayday used to have nightmares about that sort of thing, when he was a little pup and only just learning what his packmates did for food. That squeamishness had passed quickly, though, and it'd been years since he'd worried about something like that.

There's a word for this feeling, dummy, he thinks to himself. Anxiety. You're anxious.

And it was no wonder why. He hadn't seen any sign of the strange she-wolf since he'd left her, and when he thought about the state she'd been in when they met - well. He was sure the girl wasn't doing too well on her own. He wasn't doing too well, and that was even accounting for the meal he'd found himself along the way.

So when he found the narrow mountain path - perilous, but stinking of wolf - he wasted no time in scrambling forward. He would've dashed straight into their midst if common sense hadn't stopped him at the first plateau. With an aprehensive look around him - he was liable to be attacked, if anyone saw him tresspassing without announcing himself - Grayday raised his head and howled.