Otatso Wetlands where will you go

The dark canine claimed he was not death, moving forward. He looked to be a young wolf, not that she was any expert in gauging the ages of the predators. He had long legs, like he hadn't quite grown into them yet. As he moved closer, he asked, carefully, to see her wounds.

Umi breathed out a scattered sigh, finding that the bruising to her abdomen made it hurt to breathe in too deeply. She swallowed, looking toward him. While the tears had stopped falling, her eyes remained glassy. She didn't know what he would do.

The cat looked at him, watched his eyes of curiosity, and kindness. Wolves were harder to read than cats, but she was no fool. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. She nodded. Okay, she said. The wounds were days old, at least, but several of them were seeping blood or some kind of thin, pink fluid. The white wolf had done a number on her. She tried in vain to shift her position and sit up, but sighed in pain and stayed lying on the less hurting side.