Redtail Rise red

He answers his mother's call with a pace that is loose and enervated. Winter's grasp was beginning to tighten on the Rise, but the boy had little experience as to what a real winter looked like. He never knew scarcity or starvation. There was always someone to shield him from these things. Instinctually he feels the pressure to perform, to provide, however he lacks in any urgency. Urgency was something he always lax about. Maybe until now.

Along the way an elk crosses his path and struts past him, almost triumphantly. He thinks little of it until, in the distance, he sees his mother's form, crumpled on the ground. 

She is still, unmoving.

Oh fuck- The words slip from his mouth and he's off like a bullet.

He rushes to her side breathlessly. There is much more blood than he anticipated, it even stains the grass beneath his feet. The worst part of it all is that he has no clue what to do. For a moment he stands there incredulously, slack-jawed and brimming with concern.

He noses her face, licking her eyelid, looking for a sign of life. All the while his ears swiveling like satellites—footsteps, he hopes for—desperately waiting for someone else to arrive.

A whine. Mom?