Wapun Meadow leave a light on

he studies her in silence—eyes lifting to her face, dropping to the paw, then back again. the scent tells him enough, but he waits all the same.
when she doesn’t pull away, he steps closer. careful. his muzzle brushes the air first, a test, before he noses the injured paw proper. warm breath ghosts over torn skin as he inhales, committing the damage to memory. blood. pain. not fatal. not yet wrong.
a low sound leaves him.
mm, he gruffs at last, lifting his head to look at her again. it will.
he lingers a moment longer, tongue daring to ghost upon her bleeding flesh, but then withdraws just enough to give her space, tail settling low behind him.
still, he adds quietly, don’t run on it.