Qeya River Sing for the hill

The air cooled immediately as he stepped inside, and the warmth that might have otherwise pooled at the sound of her voice was choked at its source when the scent of Sun Eater grew. He pulled his lips tight so she might not see how they drew back at his canines, tried to focus on the feel of the stiff rabbit in his mouth.

He bristled at the sight of her, offended by the very presence of her injury. He placed the rabbit on the ground before her and used that excuse to come close, lift his muzzle to hers and exchange a few breaths. 

Mud dried in her fur in places she would not have been able to reach herself. The growl that rumbled in his throat would not be contained and fanned the fur of her cheek. He drew back to look her in the eye, as if to draw memories from them, seek answers to questions he was unwilling to ask.