Sunspire Mountains Back in my hometown

Dusty was far more distraught by this revelation than Shey seemed to be. The hopelessness of the situation stole into his own heart and conjured his own fears: that he might never go home to the red desert again. The distress made him lean just a little bit harder into his new friend, and he was frantic to heal the situation but without the tools or wisdom necessary to do so. Still, he felt almost that Shey giving up on his own family was a bad portent over Dusty's own future.

He was glad when the other wolf took charge of the conversation and steered it elsewhere, even though he felt terribly guilty for failing to comfort his new friend.

"Oh?" he asked, craning his head to try and get a look at the scabbing wounds. He couldn't, of course, but his expression read wonderment rather than concern, as if he thought it was a mightily impressive act for a wound.

It wasn't, of course. And while the punctures weren't healing too well with all his scratching and rolling around in the mud, he was not yet in any danger.

"Don't worry about me," he insisted, rising up briefly on his hind legs to make another grab for Shey's ear. He wanted to give it a firm tug (this biteyness seemed to run in the family!) in the direction that he'd come from. "Let's eat something," he said, leading the way back toward the rabbit warren he'd crossed to reach the other male. "We can dig up some bunnies. It'll make you feel better!"

As if Shey were the one who needed to throw of his anxiety.