Something was amiss, he could sense it. Those who usually were milling about the den at this time of day were absent. At first, he let it be, his members were allowed to wander as they pleased, but then, something began nagging at him until he could no longer lay still and he removed himself from his usually perch atop the mound near the mouth of the den and headed out towards the borders.
It did not take him long to realize that several scents were converging; Shadowfang, Cerberus, Ciara; they were all gathering together. He became even more curious and quickened him pace to a run, hoping to catch them so he could see what they were doing. Zalen was suspicious in the least bit, no, in fact he realized that it might be good to romp with his pack mates if they so wanted. But somehow, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Soon, another scent came to his nose, the scent of blood, and his worry doubled. He ran at a sprint now, and soon the silhouettes of wolves came into his vision. It was those he had scented, including Augustus, and they were all gathered around something.
As he came closer he realized that lying at their feet was a very badly injured coyote female. His heart hitched; had they done this? Was what Saluce had said the other day true, that the New Dawners were all coyote hating killers? Zalen’s posture tensed and white teeth were revealed from behind black lips. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he came into the group, tail raised high and twitching, ears erect. What happened here? He demanded of whoever would answer him first, and he stepped forward to investigate the injured femme.
She was frightened, vicious, and half buried in a shallow den, so he did not get too close; there was nothing more dangerous than an injured canine. But he placed himself like an immense black wall between her and the others, before turning to them, his green eyes darting to each of theirs, trying to gauge their temperaments.
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