Wapun Meadow running home, running home

Cole’s gaze narrowed as Rala instructed him to eat, his sharp eyes catching the way her chest heaved and the faint wince she tried to mask. The bruise on her side, glaring against her pale coat, was impossible to miss.
No, he said firmly, his voice rough but steady. Lemme look at it.
Stepping closer, he lowered his muzzle to her level, the warmth of his breath brushing against her side as he inspected the injury. The bruise was already deepening in color, and while it wasn’t bleeding, the swelling was enough to concern him. His expression hardened, a frown tugging at the corners of his blood-streaked lips.