Two Rivers Isle in sickness & in health

Though his heart lacked the pitiful squeeze of grief, Magpie's gaze stayed fixated, sorrowfully panning over Cormorant's trembling form in the darkened hollow. There was almost something to admire in the sight, a view so vaguely poetic it was lost to even him. He hesitantly stepped closer, ditching the mangled carcass he'd brought in favor of evaluating his state. Breathing, but not living. A shuddering corpse.

His muzzle came down beside Cormorant's head, pressing an affectionate nose to the wolf's temple. He was at least pleased to see the makeshift den was doing it's job, keeping the other dry to some extent, though it could always be better. He could always do better. Are you cold? Magpie whispered softly against the other's cheek, just gently enough to seem like he may have genuinely cared. Of course, he knew the answer would be yes, or any other garbled variant of it, so long as Cormorant let go of his pride.