Blackfeather Woods Wicked sitar rift

She isn’t sure where to go from here. She’d been given no milk, only the faint tinge of something salty and sweet. It has been so long since she’d last eaten, the white man having toted her around from god knows where for god knows what and now, her food is gone? 

She wails.

And wails.

What is she to do now? The concept for self survival is minimal at best. She knows to wake up and eat and play and sleep, but one thing is taken from her and she doesn’t have a clue on how to fix it. None of the wolves around her are doing anything about it and through teary, blue eyes, she slowly turns her head to peer around. A while one shows concern but is yet to do anything about the problem and the one that’s supposed to provide for her isn’t anymore. 

The girl stumbles as she tries to pick herself up, swaying on limp legs and falls face forward into a mouthful of dark fur.