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mountain boulder's jaws closed around the boy as he approached blood star. there was no chastisement in him, only the answer of instinct.

the pup should not have been so far. he had followed his own internal voice, wolf rejoining to wolf. moon runner's soft tone elicited that of ulfhedinn.

but wealda had remained here for a reason. he could smell it, the hanging illness, the blood. 

nudging his son back, not yet forbidding the boy the scene unless tuesday pressed, the huntlead turned back to the grave wounds in the hide of their leader, the child that he recognized at once as belonging to thorn caller. 

his own chuff was for blood star. the pack would rally here unless she bid them go, and he was experienced enough to know that the illness was passed through fangs.

but how long until it took wealda? his eyes held an uncommon pain as he waited for her to direct them in this.