Redhawk Caldera I'm not much, but I'm here

On quick feet Amalia backpedaled. She knew the look of mild panic that had lit the girls eyes and before she could even speak, spittle flew through the air. She turned her head away as quickly as she could, but some caught her fur behind her ear, and the side of her muzzle.

A soft whine and she bent her front torso down and twisted along the dirt wiping the saliva out and away. She knew it may very well be too late, but at least she could try and waylay some of the virus.

In my den. She returned. Come along and perhaps we should stop for a drink. That cough sounded painful.