Silver Moraine I only deal in absolutes

While he tried to discern what was wrong with her for himself, for a moment his gaze was taken by the smatterings of silver freckling the girl's ebony hide. He didn't think he'd ever seen a coat like hers, and for what it was worth, he realized in that moment that he was partial to enigmatic nature of a darker fur-type. His tail wagged as she didn't rebuff him, a complete stranger, and he felt his chest swell a little at the prospect of being any help at all to the robust young wolf. He couldn't help but think that if she wasn't in current distress, she would've been fun to hunt or spar with.

"I'll help you home then," he agreed without preamble. Phoenix padded forward, pausing in the last few steps—as if to accommodate for a change of her mind, or a hidden plot to lure him closer—before meeting her up-close and gently. She smelled of fields and woodforests, two things he didn't often scent together, and of a pack more expansive than any he'd come across yet. Faintly, he thought he recognized a part of her scent, but unless told, he would never make the connection between this wolf and her sister he'd met some days prior. He sniffed daintily at her favored paw, instinctively giving it a muted lick.

Straightening up, he smiled at her and angled himself so that he could support her injured side with his boxy frame as they went. "We'll take it nice and easy. I'm Phoenix, by the way."