Easy

Surra was dreaming. He still had not found himself a den, and so, he slept in the shadow between a boulder and a tree. He had fallen asleep an hour ago, at most.

His day had been a strange one, in his own personal world at least. He felt detached from the pack. It suddenly came to the young male that he had still, a month after joining Horizon Ridge, not met half the pack. He recognized all their individual smells by now, for sure, but only knew names to half. Some had gone - still others had come. And where was he to meet them? It was as if, he thought to himself, he was only part of this pack in name. He had done his share of hunting, yes, and buried what he had caught in the caches - but all of his hunting, so far, had been done alone. It was as if his travels had not yet ended. He was still so used to being alone that he barely remembered how to be social, to be with others.

Eventually he forced himself to settle down and go to sleep, knowing that it would do him no good to pace the whole night and let his guilty thoughts consume him. And in his dreams the gray-brown wolf felt as if he was mourning - was it for the loss of his independence? Or the loss of knowing how it felt to, for once, not be alone? He felt as if he was howling in his dream, and outwardly he shifted, restless, trying to escape the noise, the mourning, the --

His blue eyes opened, in an uncharacteristic panic. The howl was real. It was Ragnar, he was howling to the pack, mourning... Pump.

Surra scrambled to his feet, still groggy from being asleep, nearly tripping over himself as he took off towards the howl, towards the beach. He stumbled, and growled as a wayward branch scraped against his shoulder, but he kept moving. Still not totally awake, Surra stopped in his tracks as the smell of blood hit him full force - for a split second he was afraid the blood was coming from him, and he glanced at his shoulder, but it was a mere scratch. It couldn't be. Surra leaped forward again. It couldn't be.

He slowed as he came closer to the beach, realizing the truth of what laid ahead of him. Ragnar's howl, mourning for Pump, the smell of blood, so much blood...

Surra's jaw clenched as he stepped out of the trees, and froze as he saw what he expected to see, and worse. Pump's broken, bloodied body in the sand. The smell of bear. Ragnar, seeming to have just returned as well. He could smell another wolf - could it be Ragnar's wife? It smelled of herbs and pups and he recognized it from the last time he had seen Ragnar. She was not there, but surely had been, moments ago. So much ran through the young male's mind. He swallowed back a feeling of nausea - for he had never seen such a brutal death of another wolf, let alone one he knew, and had grown to respect. But, after a single breath, Surra was calm, at least on the surface. He had to be. It was how he faced terrible things. He had to remain calm, now, and then later he could return to his emotions. Slowly, head bowed and ears back in mourning, Surra approached who he knew was the leader now. "Ragnar. How can I help?"