Misery Makes Good Company

After his escapades with the boy Wendigo, Mikko decided he'd had his fill of children for the day--particularly these ones. He should've seen this coming--and he had--whenever Shiba had gone to help birth her niece's pups, but somehow, without any attachment to them, he'd just as easily forgotten that they would soon grow legs and find their voices. Their newborn helplessness had been somewhat of a luxury for the new warrior, but now, knowing what sort of trouble just one of them was able to find, he found himself on higher alert than he preferred to be, quietly but constantly hoping that he'd stumble on no more on his way back to his den. Out of sight, out of mind, and not his fault.

But as fate would have it, he spotted the telltale little body of a pup in the distance, its dark figure just barely visible against the charred volcanic ground. With a deep, quiet sigh, Mikko continued forward, barely faltering in his steps as he thought about his options. He could pretend he never saw the kid and hope it didn't find trouble...or he could bite his tongue and indulge in...whatever it was doing...while knowing it was out of danger. After all, it wasn't like this one was playing chicken with a pitch-black crevice. Its games looked much less deadly, if not quite clever for how young it was.

"And what would you be doing?" he said gruffly, suspicion lacing deep vocals as his eyes narrowed over whatever it was behind the child. This certainly didn't look like a setup that was meant for rolling around with litter mates.

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