The foundation

Gargoyle flicked at ear at her words. No parents. Just Loccian. So she was adopted. Or maybe this Loccian was another family member. Crusade had adopted a few kids in her time, and Gargoyle, well, when it came to little Ithurial, she'd more adopted him than the other way around. In his lifetime he'd learned that 'adopted' family members often developed ties as strong as blood. Sometimes stronger, for being blood didn't always mean, being close. In his musings he half noticed that the girl was shaking again, this time more visibly.

Eventually she just pinned herself down, asking for home.

"Alright," murmured Gargoyle in his throat, rolling tones. "Up you come then." He leaned down to catch up her scruff carefully in his jaws. The fact that she was night to be yearling didn't count for much when the wolf was Gargoyle's size. Ithruial was past her first year, and not long ago he'd picked her up and carried her through a snow storm. Heck'd he could lift up Ocena and she was a full grown wolf. Years of dragging around deer and caribou could do that to the neck muscles. But Gargoyle was recovering. Flesh had been torn off the left side and front of his neck. Had been. It was growing back now, and he felt fine enough to risk the strain. So long as the little girl didn't freak out or try to pull back. He wasn't trying to scare her more, in fact, most pups felt comforted when carried by their scruff. But he was still just a stranger and he didn't know if she'd let him.