Otter Creek I never thought coyotes essential

Wildflower did not look well. Concern overtook any other emotion Sunspot might have identified then; none of it mattered if Wildflower wasn't well. A few steps brought him further forward, still wary but nearly ready to abandon caution entirely.

Cher, he called him again. Sunspot never had asked what that meant, and he wouldn't now, either. The coywolf looked so tired. Are you okay? he wanted to ask, but it felt like a stupid question. He couldn't make himself form the words. Instead he took another step toward Wildflower, golden eyes stinging but mercifully dry for now and filled with a silent request: tell me what I can do.