Golden Glade Your skin was gilded

Sorrow stirred through the glade. Imperceptible, if one was not accustomed. But Stratos had heard his sisters cry, and he still remembered.

This woman's sobs broke around soft sunlight and rusted the gilded glow. He thought of leaving, but his heart compelled him. There were no packs here. Most scents other than prey were stale.

Very likely, the girl was alone. And that made her wellbeing his responsibility.

Stratos made no show of stealth as he sought her out. If her back was not towards him, she'd see his ruddy pelt through the trees. A blessing today; he did not wish to scare her.

Sister, he called softly, before slipping back into the common tongue, The forest is wet with tears. Do you need help?

Stratos caught sight of her golden back between the trees.