Stone Circle the wicker wolf

“Mhm, very cool,” she bridles forward with a head cocked. Her son was quite impressive, taking to his injuries in stride while other young cubs might have been screaming their faces off.

“But I’m not sure your father will agree so let’s get you cleaned up, ok?” She passes a tongue along the bridge of his nose and up over an eye swollen shut. She’s fairly certain Fig would see the humor in this too but she was not above using their father as a scapegoat if it meant winning points with her children- and getting chastised for it later, a thought which elicits a sly smile.

She carries her son to the river, giving him a good dunk before setting about her grooming, throughly preening at every sodden inch.