Hushed Willows coral-cold.

set June 2

there had been a commotion, somewhere in the willows. cam heard the screams, the growls, the noises foreign to him. he was eager to see for himself what was happening, but those tasked with watching after the children kept him away, kept him sequestered in the whelping den. but even watchers grew weary, and his opportunity came soon enough.

a little dark streak bolted through the trees, free at last. fortunately for young cam, his arrival came after the wolves had driven away the intruder, and the rush of impending destruction had settled into something far weightier. the heavy finality of the situation did not escape his notice, and yet cam only had eyes for his mother, who seemed to be taking a nap nearby.

mummy! he called out, happy to see her after what seemed like an eternity. there was something strange and sticky coating her neck; he began to lap at it and grimaced, making a bleh noise at the taste. quickly giving that up, he nestled against her, tucked into the curve of her throat, the bulk of her chest.

she was quite still—he figured she must be in a very deep sleep. she had seemed sleepy lately; had he and ziggy been too noisy last night when they had wrestled? sorry, mummy, he murmured, feeling bad. he yawned, himself, and stretched a little. he was tired, too.

she was quite cold, too. cold, and the air around him smelled strange. . .smelled like the taste of whatever had soiled her coat. disturbed, he shifted slightly, trying to find a better position. she remained stiff against him, not instinctively moving to draw him closer.

she must be very sleepy. cam stopped moving, not wanting to wake her up. the sound of whimpers nearby drew his attention, and he made a shushing noise toward it, tiny face cross.

mummy's sleeping, he hissed, frowning.