Whitefish River And that's all you need to know

He glanced at her when she said his name, and a grin slowly oozed over his muzzle -- a fleeting glimpse of his old, carefree self. Call me Verx, he insisted, nodding. As she described Drago's condition, the smile faded into an expression of stone-faced worry that was all too commonplace these days.

Worry, and guilt. Her question took him aback; Verx blinked, mouth twisting idly, before lifting his shoulders and letting them fall in a shrug. He was silent for a moment before speaking again.

I was the leader of a pack on the coast, he mused, canting his head to the northwest. We had a home. A future. Safety. And then my pride got the best of me. A growl simmered in his ruined throat. I was challenged and lost, and we all fled. A few days later, Drago got taken.

Vercingetorix looked at Speedy, on the verge of tears once more. It's my fault, he said, choked. If I'd have just kept my stupid fucking mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened. Dragomir would be okay. But somebody hurt him really badly, and I couldn't protect him from it, and it's all on me. It's all on me!

He sank to his belly on the bank of the river, sides heaving in silent sobs. He'd usually be embarrassed at the show of emotion, especially in front of a pretty young thing. . .but he was long past caring about such superficial things.