Dying Embers

Red had patrolled through the moorland that night, unperturbed by the tremors and the mist enshrouding it. Valhalla, it seemed, was far enough from the epicenter to be left relatively unscathed by the effects, but he knew that other packs - at least one of them an ally of the pack he now called home - and countless loners and prey animals were not so lucky.

Aurielle's advisement to the pack not to den in the moor was no hardship tk Red, who didn't have a den yet nor any particular plans to dig one. He had gotten used to sleeping beneath the stars and wasn't in any particular hurry to change that. He did, however, have a warm hollow out of the wind and lined withgrasses and feathers where he could spread out his sleeping furs, and that was where he was heading when his attention was drawn to the sight of Aurielle upon the boulder with a thousand yard stare. The vaguely content sleepiness of a successfully completed patrol melted into concern.

Giving his bristles a thoughtful shake, Red changed his course towards the alpha. "Lady Aurielle," he rumbled as he came up beside the rock, "are you quite all right?"