Silvertip Mountain Bones withered thin

His thundering heartbeat began to slow as she ate, clearly strong enough to rouse herself at the scent of food. That was a good sign - she could still eat. Perhaps she was not as starved as he'd first thought, or maybe she was just more resillient than she seemed. Whatever the case, he ignored her question, too relieved to voice his very poor opinion of the request. No, he would not join her. He was hungry, but not emaciated, not in danger, not yet weak.

A large part of him wanted to continue to scold her when she was finished, but he kindly refrained. Crisis averted, he became uncomfortably aware of how rude he'd been to the higher-ranked wolf.

"Grayday," he told her, when asked. "And I'm just glad I was around."

His head turned sharply at the sound of another's approach, but his tail gave a few weak wags when he saw that it was Anita. She was obviously worried about her packmate - and rightly so. How had things gotten this bad without anyone noticing? Perhaps, there was just nothing to be done, at the time. Things had been tough for everyone.

With a heavy sigh, he found a comfortable patch of ground and laid down near the white wolf, not planning to leave her alone anytime soon. He'd watch her until she got some meat over her bones, determined not to let this happen again.