The darkest evening of the year

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After issuing the howl, Koontz began to pace along the ledge, her nervous energy making it impossible to sit still. On every pass, she paused for a few seconds, eyes, ears and nose straining for any sign of help. For a while, no one came, though eventually she heard the telltale scrape of leathery paw pads on shale. The Alpha female froze, facing the place where she expected someone to appear. She wasn't disappointed; a vaguely familiar face materialized as the pack's newest guardian stepped onto the outcropping.

"Hello, Verrine," she said, relieved simply to have company. Although she barely knew him, she decided to be forthright after a short pause. "Ariston just resigned, leaving me as the pack's sole leader. I'm not worried about that, though," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm worried that he might be sick." Only then did something occur to her and her silvery brow knitted together. "You're a Leviathorgan, not a Skullion. Do you have medical knowledge...?" If not, why had he come, she wondered. Perhaps he simply wanted to help, a notion which suddenly lifted Verrine out of the generic ranks of her pack, putting him a notch above the rest.