Sunspire Mountains fox fire

When she chose to approach him, reaching out and passively trying to gather information from his coat and then, his collar, Mou allowed it. She did not seem familiar to him and so he should have been more cautious, but the only wolves he had learned to be cautious of were family; the Redhawks would not be so placid if they were to encounter him, and it was in one of those moments he would choose to fight back or to run — here, with this passive stranger, he saw no reason to be afraid. She merely inspected the adornment around his neck and settled beside him.

His breaths remained laborious, his lungs hungry for oxygen in this new environment where it was too thin - he had yet to adapt, but she evidently had adjusted well. Soon she was giving him some help, and his dark ears swivelled to listen eagerly. Mou tried to do as she instructed: drawing in a slower breath than before, holding it as long as he could, exhaling; it became easier the more he tried to mimic her, and as he set upon listening to her soothing voice, he soon became too distracted to measure his breaths. The pace of his heart began to ebb and he felt a little bit better. The lightheartedness would not abate so swiftly, though it wasn't as intense.

The boy opened his mouth to try and wheeze a thank you, but only more breath came from him, not a squeak or a sigh or even a hum. Nervous of his condition, Mou licked his lips, then cautiously nosed at the stranger's fur in order to squish his wet nose against her skin, the briefest of touches, instead.