Qeya River the wind finally sleeps

the scent struck her first—foreign, unfamiliar, yet woven with exhaustion. then came the sound, faint but distinct, a body meeting the earth with weight too heavy to be intentional.
star eater did not hesitate.
her supplies tumbled from her grasp, forgotten as she turned on her heels and rushed toward the source. snow and damp earth clung to her paws as she ran, ears pricked, eyes sharp. she was no stranger to strangers, but this scent did not bring the warning of threat—only weariness.
when she reached the fallen figure, she stopped just short, breath curling in the cold air.
are you alright? her voice carried urgency, her frame tense with readiness. whoever this was, they were spent, and something in her would not allow them to be left to the mercy of the wilderness.