Sleeping Dragon there should be stars for great wars like ours

Their leader emerged with a fretful expression on her dark face, and Glu peered at her with a curious glint in his eye. Something was certainly wrong. Fighting the urge to pry, the coywolf imagined that things would unfold in a matter of time. The Heda said that one of the pups was ill, or so they believed, and that he had cried for some time. The coywolf furrowed his brows and squinted into the den where the children were being kept; he could scent milk in the air just outside, and the fresh aroma of the puppies that were nestled within. There was a fair bit of squealing from the dark hole, but the skeletal coywolf did not budge from his position outside.
 
The stranger beside him seemed to think that it was more appropriate for Gluska to enter the den, seeing as he had been there longer. He turned to face her with his slender muzzle and shook his head. “I will not enter a mother’s den unless the children are my own,” he returned to her with a hint of a smile on his features. There was a peculiar way about him. The woman then suggested that they use chamomile on the child. It was worth the shot. “I have a good stock of it in my den, Heda. This woman seems to have good instinct. Thyme might be useful as well. Either way, I have the stock,” he explained to the dark leader with a quick bow of his narrow skull.