Broken Boulder no, i never sold my soul

makes a lot of assumptions in this post
lmk if it needs changinggg

His friend's panic immediately drew his attention away from the pup, who he could tell was not actively dying at least. He moved closer to press his muzzle to the top of Delight's head if allowed, drawing it down briefly to gently lick the base of his ear. Calm down, He murmured, moving back and glancing over the pup. I'm going to look at her, alright?
Assuming he got permission, he immediately began his inspection, doing his best to focus. Lethargic, as he'd first noticed, and not nearly as responsive as she ought to be. He sniffed and nosed over her, checking but finding few clues. No wounds, no fever, no coughs or discharge from any orifices (ew lol)— then he nosed at her lips, gently tucking one side back. Pale. The pieces clicked, then, but for several moments he doubted— they had a mother to feed them, albeit a restless one he'd scented fresh on the borders as of late. Could it be so simple and horrible as that, or was it a mystery illness he didn't know of?
But he'd seen something like this before. He moved back, swallowing hard; something icy had formed behind his gaze. His next words were sharper than the question he'd pressed on Delight, cold in a way. It could be some sickness I've never seen, but— Delight, I don't think she's eating enough. How often does Queenie feed the pups between patrols?