Blackfoot Forest Lost behind the fading light

The sound of a cry stopped Winter’s Wake in his tracks; the discordance of sobbing drew him near.

The snowpanther padded towards the sound to investigate. These woods had seemed favorable to him so far, but it would be a hard thing to stand if the impression he would be left with of this place was the weeping of wolves.

It did not take long to find the collapsed figure: a heap of brown fur that smelled of Swiftcurrent mixed with the salt of fresh tears. Wake kept his distance and cleared his throat to draw the other’s attention.

I apologize for the intrusion… he offered gently. I heard crying. Was it more rude to interrupt a good cry or to ignore it entirely? He was prepared to find out.