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Alder had made it clear to the other male that his intention was friendly, and non threatening. He thought nothing of helping the other male over to the warmth of the fire, nothing abnormal or uncomfortable. The male was glad he had found the coy-wolf –not having understood that he was trying to stalk Hawthorn– and could help. The rust and gray creature allowed Alder to help him closer to the fire, and he kept his eyes on the male as he sat, unsure if he would fall or not. Alder sat beside him, carefully observing to make sure he did not weaver too close to the flames.
There was a question, a voice he had not heard yet from the nameless boy. It was light headed as before, but likely far closer to his normal tone then the pain-filled one Alder had experienced before. The fire? he rolled the question through his mind. It was a normal fixture in the tree named male's life, simple to create one the technique was mastered. After a moment he reached for the instrument that he had used. With some flint, it creates a spark to start the flame. He showed the other canine, still watching him to make sure he was not about to faint.
He did not want to ask aloud what had caused this male's unsettling shift. But it lingered in the back of his every thought. Alder remembered something that may help, and quickly retrieved the dried meat that he kept with him during his scouting beyond the pack lands. Something in your stomach might help. A soft smile accented the gesture, hoping that he would take the extra little bit of help Alder could happily give. I'm Alder, by the way.
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