the few and the far between

All she offered in response was a bark. The scent reminded her of Rakshra, though he could barely get the heavy scent of blood out of his nose. Unsure, he crept forward a bit more, padding in the shallow end of the water. As he grew nearer, her scent was stronger, though he couldn't make out the wolf's silhouette from behind the waterfall.

There seemed to be a large clearing behind the flowing water -- perhaps a cave? -- but he was unsure whether he could make it in safely. At this point Rakshra's scent was overwhelming, but his mind was muddled and confused. Sore paws carried him to the edge of the falls, gingerly stepping on the slippery rocks that led up behind the falls. A pained groan escaped his throat as he struggled up, clambering up towards the cave. His fatigue was obvious, and by the time he found himself on solid ground he nearly collapsed on the floor, his vision hazy as he tried to focus on the wolf before him.

"Rakshra?" he mumbled, his voice shaky and confused, quite unlike how he'd spoken earlier. In many ways, he seemed as though he was entirely different being -- he was weak and helpless, as if no strength was left in him.