Dawnlark Plains hair of the dog

He'd been getting sick again, and that had caused the male to draw away from the den, where he might pass on his illness to the young cubs that lived there. It had started with lethargy and then the fever, and now all his joints were swollen and aching, and he had twin point of pain on the side of his neck, just under his jaw.

When he went to sleep the night before, it was with the errant thought that he might feel better in the morning with just a bit more rest. But when morning came, his body was all the more wracked with fever and illness. Luckily, he was not awake to feel it.

The male did not awake until a cool nose pressed against his shoulder, and he sprang up with a grace he thought he'd long since lost. The sun was bright all around him, and the snowy plains were so very white. The only thing that broke the monotony was the red girl that stood in front of him.

Grayday wet his lips. "Greeneyes?"

The girl laughed, and then she was wheeling away, kicking up clouds of snow behind her. Grayday was right at her heels, faster than he'd been in years, his joints unaffected by the old scar in his flank, or the fever that had attacked him only hours prior. All that was a thing of the past, nothing but a dull and distant memory. The only real things were right in front of him, chasing and being chased, jumping and ducking, throwing her head back and laughing again.

A million miles away, a silver-clad body began to grow cold and stiff.