Ankyra Sound VIII. Standing in the back door crying, now you're going to need a friend.

The abrupt departure of one of the younger wolves would have rankled Stryx had she not been so preoccupied. She still held her eyes to the agouti boy as he dashed away from the grotto, committing the cut of his face to memory in case they ever came across one-another again; there was much still to do for the struggling woman.

The man spoke up in response to all the questions — so it was that Stryx learned the name of her patient, this Raleska, and the first thing to slip through Stryx's mind was a foggy apology for having to get so deeply personal with the woman's body. It wasn't spoken aloud, but she looked upon the woman's sleeping face for a moment of contemplative silence.

When she looked up again the white wolf was focused on the babes, and beside the little famly was Sugar, bundled up and drifting to sleep. It felt wrong to wake her; but she offered quietly to the man, I will keep vigil if you would like to sleep as well. But something in the man's bearing told Stryx he would not do so, and she was thankful for such a stoic protector during this crises.

The hours would pass by, and eventually the stillness would draw Stryx in to a stupor of her own—not asleep, but not fully awake either. The worst was averted.