The Heartwood Bed Time Snack

Wicken's inclination to dart to safety seemed to stall when the lunge did not come with the strangers proximity. He raised his eyes just long enough to see the warm brown of the strangers coat to determine how he appeared before they were once again lowered. He did not want to incite rage where it had not already manifested. His ears twitched from pinned to his skull as he listened to the strangers request.

He did not speak in reply, but Wicken did awkwardly hobble to the stream with his nose to the ground. The movement was painful and his back left leg gave at the pressure he put on it. The trail picked up right across the stream. It was stronger than when he had originally chased them, so he was confident they still had a chance to catch up. It appeared his encounter with the stranger had not stirred them up as he had feared. The breeze brought with it the scent, but the fresh hoof prints on the streams edge were evidence enough to any wolf with eyes.

He was grateful for the help, even if the sentiment hurt the remnants of a depleted ego. Wicken was in no state to refuse the help of another who offered it. He only hoped that he would not come to regret putting the prospect of food into another's hands. Here. His voice was a whisper as he nodded his head in the same direction of the hoof prints.