Barrow Fields i hunt my wild god

Despite being quite handsome, capable, and a doting packmate to boot, Lava didn't currently operate with a mind of his own. He was very much content to just turn his brain off and follow his mother wherever her trail took them and no matter how much the task dismayed him -- it was easiest this way. And besides his inclination for blindly following others, the dusky wolf was just a naturally giving soul. He would die lending his last breath to someone or something he loved, and he would do it without question.

Still, Lava was slow to follow Helix this morning, dragging himself first at a dog-tired pace. He paused to quench his thirst and relieve himself, not necessarily in that order, and then he caught up with his piceous predecessor with his vitality returned. "Ma," he whined, loping up to her side so that he might duck his head affectionately beneath her chin. "What's wrong?" he asked in earnest, as boyish and clueless as ever -- except now with the voice of a young man.

He knew things weren't going as planned but, as opposed to his mother, he found comfort rather than helplessness in the knowledge that there was nothing they could do about their situation. Where Lava saw opportunity to rest and relax, Helix became insatiable. Even in her age, she needed fierce stimulation, or at least an outlet for her domineering drive. At times it was difficult for even her young son  to match her. He stood back to look at her imploringly and smile, his tail wagging slowly against his hocks.