weep not, poor children

His warning growl near the mouth of the den gained their attention. Mordecai could not distinguish the words that he heard, but he knew the sound of surprise and the sound of someone else stirring within. The scuffle of feet across a dry floor prompted him to poise defensively, yet the only one who emerged from the den was Mara herself. This alone was not enough for Mordecai to ease himself from the aggressive stance he wore, and his eyes roamed her figure for major injury. That blood had come from somewhere and if not from her, then who?

Drawing his gaze to her face, Mordecai wordlessly prompted her to go on. If she had something to explain, then he certainly wanted to hear it. A plethora of questions burned at the tip of his tongue but he refrained from letting them spill out. But the concern was evident across his face… and the leeriness that followed it was as well.