Emberwood There's a party and we're all going

All things considered, Hirundo wasn’t having a terrible time. He wasn’t starving. No one, at present, was trying to kill him. The sun was warm and pleasant on his gray fur, and he had found some sweet-smelling flowers to roll in. The purple petals clung to his fur as he lounged in the meadow, limbs outstretched.

A cry split through the air. Hirundo sat up, ears flattened against his skull. Distantly, he heard—crying. Someone was crying.

At once he felt a bit of shame for his initial reaction. Someone was not well. …Would he really be any help, though? Most of the time, he simply made things worse. Hirundo had learned that bitter lesson by now.

And yet, pulled onwards by some old instinct to help he simply could not ignore, Hirundo stood up. He walked towards the sound of distress.

Upon seeing the crying woman, he paused. His first instinct was to comfort her, to tell her that all was well—but he knew that couldn’t be true.

…Can I help? Hirundo decided to ask.