Heron Lake Plateau sometimes I can't even see the reason why

Raleska had been busy scampering around when she heard Svalinn cry. She halted, ears pricked in concern and alarm creeping into her features. Nosing towards him at an apologetic pace, she nudged him and then nosed along the ground where bubbles of bloody spit had fallen.

The foam was a pinkish white; Raleska sniffed the ground and then looked to her wheat-hued brother. In the coming years it was possible Raleska might not be so tender, but in that moment she inched closer and gave him a reassuring lick across his wounded muzzle. He would be okay, right?