Big Salmon Lake la vie en rose

Nothing happens when she speaks the girl’s name and West frowns with concern. The blood is mostly stale, with a hint of freshness from wounds reopening, and localized to the back of her next. Her emerald eyes scan the rest of the girl, not noting anything in particular from her vantage point but the blood alone is enough to give her cause for concern. She met the girl at a lake under opposite circumstances and even if Kitsch cannot verbalize the sentiment, she picks up on it anyway.

Eventually, she gets the attention she called for a moment ago and she takes several more steps to close the distance. Her nose draws when she’s closer; the wounds are not fresh but they aren’t more than a day or two old. The most of the bleeding has long stopped, at least on the outside, and it she makes a point to avoid the expression written plainly across the girl’s face.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, gingerly bumping the girl’s muzzle. West stays close should the other need something to balance on. “I’ve got you.”