I Thought I Could Handle It...

He ran toward the cry of his son with all the ferocity and speed of a stallion, his paws beating against the forest floor as if it were a drum. As he caught the scent of blood his heart began to race, his eyes widening as he drew closer and closer to his weeping child.

“What happened?!” He demanded frantically as he burst onto the scene, all but ignoring the other pup that had arrived. He nosed his son over and licked at the scored lacerations on his back, trying to keep panicked whines from escaping him. “What were you doing out here? Where’s your mother?” He asked, crouching low to meet his son’s puffy eyes directly. There was little doubt in his mind where she was, most likely under the dark male she had brought with her, but in spite of how much Leera angered him, he never once held any resentment for his children. In his mind they were his more than they were hers.

He felt Hannibal’s failure to find a healer for them now more than ever, and as his heart thundered with panic he reached back in his memories to think of what his child would need to heal properly and avoid infection.