ooc:
The day had been productive at least as the Issor could tell. The caches were somewhat stocked on the reserve, still leaving some fullness to be desired. The dens had been swept clean and as far as she could tell, the family as a whole was groomed and orderly. But then… this was only what her eyes could behold on the surface, at least when it came to her brethren. For all she knew, they were still ridden with dirt, believing her declaration of cleanliness was foolish as they paraded around in a cloud of filth. It would have surprised her knowing well the temperament of most males and how they despised the grooming process. However, it was all well and good. She would undoubtedly know the truth eventually…
For now, her mind was better set on her leisurely task at hand; ensuring the borderlines were well marked and secure, engraved with the pungent scent of the pack. There was no haste, for when completed, she had only her den within the Chambers to return to for what was sure to be another quiet and thoughtful night with her fellow lead. She had by no means relinquished her love for him, but she had felt the strain upon their bond. But how to confront it… she did not know. And so she kept away for a little time, tending to the pack before her own personal life in disarray in the hopes of finding a calm static to appease her mind for a time.
But the ancestors were always busy, always stirring the winds to catch her nose.
And by this changing wind she was lead from her usual route to just beyond the borderline. The scent was acrid to her nostrils, so heavy it was difficult to fathom a single being could carry this scent alone. It was a mark of collective; a meek aroma smothered by powerful others. A scenario that raised her hackles defensively and turned her light steps quiet and cautious. From her own land, she crept to its outskirts drawn by the lure til she was made to stop dead at its source.
None but horror adorned her muzzle with panic steadily creeping behind. The body was still, deathly still and thin with little sign of life save for the gently stroked fur by a merciful wind. But was this an illusion of life? Had this little one been taken by the ancestors so soon? Carefully, she lowered her muzzle toward the young female’s own hoping for twitch, breath… anything. And she received an affirming exhale just as panic overtook her features. There was life! But for how long…
Bone and muscle realigned without hesitation, stalling her aid of the sickly creature for but a moment til she had the use of dexterous arms. Very gently, she sought to roll the ‘child’ over and gather her in her arms to carry assuming that though the young one still breathed, she was little more than unconscious.
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