Blackfeather Woods Nocturne

Again a familiar scene; Potema sleeping, her children sprawled out about her. The den was warm and heady; Potema found herself uncomfortably shifting over towards the open chill of the mouth of the den. It was auspicious then that her head was near the entrance when Atshen, Atshen of all wolves, chuffed for her. 

Her head raised, her single, still seeing eye twinkling at the molten-eyed Silencer. Potema stared at him curiously, then gasped as she saw her daughter twisted in agony. Potema rose, not caring if her sons and daughter slid off her body and protested, rushing to her daughter. The question — What happened? — choked in her throat as she saw the rabbit. The woman cursed and sped off, back to the den. She kept a few herbs on hand, especially for moments like this. Yarrow was the best thing to have for especially young and curious children. Potema snatched a clump, not caring for dosage, only that she had some. She returned, looking to Atshen, then her daughter, swallowing apprehensively. I need you to open her mouth,