Wapun Meadow all time low

Tuathal smells her before he sees her: canine, framed by the the too-familiar choke of blood. His legs begin to shake, and he considers making quick adjustment of his course - a sharp turn to the right, to leave the blasted East behind -

Until he sees her body.

He catches himself... and he is certain she is dead. Dead, like the corpse in the snow. Dead, like Ceara. Nothing good will come of this. And yet, he closes the space between them. He trembles. The world holds still. Nothing good will come of this - and he leans in to stretch a paw toward her with eyes long shut, easing forward until he feels a touch of warmth to warmth. He gently prods - yanks away - peeks through the slightest crack - and waits.