Dawnlark Plains LXXIII

It would be good to stretch her legs, to run. With all the sickness about New Snow had taken special care to be nearest to her youngest at most moments, ranging only with her man—he, like her, was like to avoid the sickly scents. 

And now they returned here. To a different degree—not within, but around. It was a relief, but still unnerving. New Snow patrolled some days to make sure its source had never followed.

Wealda was absent—New Snow fret. But perhaps she traveled again to find more wayward cubs… or perhaps it was the sickness. New Snow could not wait to give herself to the hunt, to let the stress fade in the same way their quarries life soon would. 

She moved to greet her man with nuzzles and licks, before looking to the returned one. He looked tired, but still smelled alright—she worried for him, too. This hunt would do him good. She approached and nosed him in relieved greeting, licking her chops.