Past the tribulation

What did one say to a wolf that had lived there life in slavery? A part of him had a morbid curiosity at what she had suffered through, but he knew there were no words he could say that would make it better. Better to leave it be.

He offered her a warm grin as she promised to remember what he said. He transferred the bundle of herbs he held from his paw to his mouth, holding them lightly there in fear of crushing them.

Arriving at the den she obviously must be using, he leaned forward and deposited the herbs into the offered bag. Once his mouth was free, he had a look around at the spacious den. There was warm bedding, some built in shelves and what looked like a branching room. Had this den been made with more wolves in mind? Who knew what his father had been thinking.

She walked out of the den again, so of course he followed her, taking another inconspicuous glance around to ensure all her needs were being met. He took a seat just outside the space, and glanced at the other wolf with a wry smile. “Ahh… No, but they did lead me into tree climbing a lot when I was younger” he admitted.


"Mortis Fatalis"