Deepwood Weald arctocephalus

Dutch felt the hitch in her breath like an arrow through his own chest. It nearly made him stumble, but he was careful to make no sudden movements as he turned to her again, attempting once more to walk alongside her.

"Where did they go?" he asked her, because he did not know what else to ask. Her pain resonated him; he did not know how she ached, but he thought he knew where as the echo of it pulsed in his chest. It was the same place that Valiant hurt, he thought.

But Valiant had never been hidden away. There was something very strange about this young woman, and his uneasiness over it almost matched the empathy he felt toward her.

"Come here," he said, but although the words were a command, his tone was an offering. He held out a foreleg to her; a chest or a shoulder to lean into. It was what his mother had always done for him.