There was not warmth but cold in her awaking and the smell of earth without her mate’s scent as a strange initial intake of the following morning. A sudden rush of adrenaline surged through her body as her first thought was that she had gotten lost from home. But as her mind grew fully aware and the stench of decaying blood graced her nostrils, she relaxed and remembered. What had transpired the night before. Of course she would not be resting with her mate in their den, she had chosen to take charge of the young wounded boy and stand as his guard during the night. But even a warrior needed to rest and must have fallen asleep during the night.
Recalling the boy the she-wolf looked around as the scent of a kill became too pungent to ignore. She hadn’t noticed she was being watched until her eyes met the searching gaze of the boy, peering down at her while she rested. She perked a curious brow, her muzzle parting as if to ask what caused this behavior, but the gentle crease soon spanned to its fullest width, unsheathing impressive teeth with a long, curling tongue unfurled. Her maw snapped shut with an audible click. “Pardon,” she excused herself then looked to the carcasses. “I see you are well enough to hunt,” she commented while bracing herself against the ground to stand. “How are your wounds?”