Fox's Glade familiar

@Faust <3

Blood trickled down her haunches, turning cold and congealed in her fur within seconds of touching the wintry air. Anathema chewed idly at a forepaw crusted in dark red-brown, hardly registering the itching feeling of wounds freshly bleeding. She'd stretched out beneath a barren tree to tend to herself.

As much as she could bear to, at least. Ana grimaced at her own raw pads, running her tongue over the torn skin with a faint whimper. She could hardly stand to look at her own wounds — much less let herself think about how they'd come to be.

uktark slowed at the scent first—blood gone cold, sharp as iron in his teeth. wounded. alone.
the snow muffled his approach, but not his presence; he was a dark shape moving out from the treeline, breath curling, eyes fixed on the girl beneath the barren branches.
she was small. hurt. licking at torn pads with the quiet sound of pain she tried to swallow.
he stopped a few paces off, towering but still, head lowering by degrees as he tasted the air around her. no enemy nearby. no fresh predator. only the echo of whatever had torn at her.
a low chuff left him—rough, but not unkind.
hurt, he said simply.
not a question. an assessment.
his tail shifted once behind him. dominance.
show.