Whitebark Stream I'm swept up by the shape of all the centuries

Fading this.  :)

Artyom hovered around Dawn, annoyingly so, tentatively nosing at the ruffled platinum fur beneath her throat. She was fine, thankfully, without any open wound despite the discomfort in the area where their prey had delivered a swift kick. Still, he held some reluctance to take his mate at her word not because he didn't believe her, but because seeing her hurt pained him in other ways.

When finally he felt some assurance that Dawn wouldn't drop dead at his feet, Artyom lifted his bloodied crown to look around the other hunters. He saw Chai, made crimson by the disembowling of their prize but otherwise well and pale-furred Connor with his gaze elsewhere. Artyom's earthen eyes followed his pack-mates, finding the sleek form of young Daylily as she loped away.

"Day!" Artyom barked, but did not pursue. She ignored him, continued to pad away from the scene, and the gilded ranger blinked with confusion toward the other present male. He, too, seemed uncertain as to why their comrade simply left, so Artyom shot one last concerned glance in her direction before returning his attention to Dawn.

The pack rallied to feed and he stayed close to his sterling mate, respecting her position in their hierarchy to begin her share first before joining in.