Baptized in Dirty Water [Flood aftermath]

ooc. lemme know if a) you don't want Kaine here or b) I misread the situation and Kaine is doing Too Much (like a big ole drama queen)

The sun departed as the search party arrived. The golden beast had arrived hot on their heels, ready to be put to work. And work they did. Without hesitation, they began to skirt the edges of the canyon. Traipsing the razor's edge of oblivion, one false move from being swept up in the current themself. Each of the wolves had separated, opting to cover the most ground rather than offer an imposing resistance against any ill wishers. Thus, the godling was entirely alone when they heard a tiny voice cry out "MOM!" desperation heavy in those high pitched tones.

Instinct kicked in, with their own children still so young. The deity had always had a soft spot for children, and now was far from an exception. Mismatched eyes narrowed, scanning the cliff face for a tiny, waterlogged body. There. Almost invisible in the growing darkness, huddled in a tiny alcove. The pup's shivering could almost be seen from where they stood. On the other side of the canyon.

This was going to be interesting.

Rather than waste time searching for another solution, the beast leaped into the water. It had settled somewhat from the torrent that had decimated the pack not too long ago. It was manageable. Kick, kick, grab, grab. Swimming through the debris was another layer of challenge. Drought had turned trees into clawing talons, reaching for limbs and fur to claim as penance for their deaths. Twigs scraped and scratched at skin, where ordinarily they might only have caught in their fur. Eventually, they reached the other sided. Whether or not they were heaving for breath was another story. It took immense effort to scramble from the lapping waves onto the craggy cliff face. The brackish water soaked their coat, turning their pelt to lead.

Heaving themself from the water, they mounted the canyon wall until they reached the pup. Head low, they did their best not to appear frightening. That was the last thing this poor child needed. "Fear not, little one." They rumbled gently, stooping to examine him. Bumps and bruises, they figured. There was no obvious scent of blood. The familiar markings gave them pause. "Do you know where your mother is?" They questioned softly, withholding the worry from their voice.