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WC 457
Shawchert's empty smile did little to reassure her, and the fact that he had not heard a thing she said was very strange of the normally attentive alpha. She cocked her head, considering this for a moment, then took another step near. Her eyes flicked to the shapeless piece of wood in his hands. It was clear that whatever he was doing was just to preoccupy himself and that this would be no masterpiece when he was done. He was just taking out his anxiety on the poor piece of whittling wood.
Everything about Shawchert was wrong and it was unsettling to the writer. Her leader was always in good spirits, always kind and happy and fun-loving. Something had gone horribly wrong in his world today and there was no hiding it. Whatever happened to him, it had wriggled down to his core and upset his soul. Orin thought that even if Shawchert had hidden his downtrodden face she still would have sensed his sadness.
“Nevermind the journal,” she said as she finally became animated again. Her brows pursed together with worry, and she slipped her slender body up next to the hulking form of her alpha, taking a seat on the stoop next to him. She sat close to him, offering her warmth – both physically and mentally. When a pack wolf was upset their greatest chance for comfort always came from within the pack, even for the alpha. This was an instinct that was engrained deep within almost every wolf. Orin was often blind to her instincts, but not when it came to empathizing with a pack mate. “We can talk about that later.”
She let her satchel slide off of her shoulder and set it down next to her, then turned to look into Shawchert's visage. What she saw there was awful. Though he tried to smile and cast his worries aside in her presence there was no denying the deep pain etched in his eyes. As a writer, Orin knew about characters, and saw the truth buried deep within Shawchert's blue eyes. The man had been hurt.... wounded by some dagger that left no blood, but certainly made it's mark. Orin could not discern exactly what had happened. Perhaps someone had died?
Suddenly she felt a pang of terror rip through her own heart. Had someone in Cercatori been killed? That certainly would have been cause for the alpha to be acting like this. She fumbled with her hands for a minute until her natural personality came back to the forefront and she began talking again.
“What happened? Shawchert, you can tell me. Is everyone...” she swallowed hard at the thought, but pressed on. “Is everyone in Cercatori okay?”