Mantis carefully padded through Willow pack territory again, far from home, but out on his usual daily business. A bag of various meat scraps that he had found in the garbage hung from his maw, and though the aroma was so tempting, he resisted it. The den he had been visiting came into view, and with a smile crossing his maw, he picked up his pace, only slowing to glance around so that he could be sure no one was around. Feeling safe that no one had seen him, he ducked his head and trotted into the den, tossing the bag of food to the ground as he did.
"Hello," he said quietly, almost timidly, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
There, at the back of the den, lay a she-dog, and as his eyes adjusted, Mantis realized that her eyes were closed. She was asleep. He padded over, his brow furrowing as his gaze stopped on her throat. Her throat had been wounded badly, on top of several other wounds to her face and sides, and this she-dog had been left to die. But in spite of Mantis finding her and getting her to the safety of this den, she didn't seem to be doing well. He brought her food every day and talked to her to keep her company. Still, she was so weak... Mantis wasn't sure what else he could do.
He smiled, noticing the she-dog's eyes open slowly. She smiled back, and her bushy tail wagged slowly. "Are you hungry?" Mantis asked, tilting his head with concern at her.
Slowly, she nodded in response. Her eyes followed him to the other side of the den, where he picked up the meat scraps he had brought and carried them over. He ripped open the bag, and the delicious smell of beef filled the den. "Here," Mantis said quietly, taking a piece and placing it by her maw.
Eagerly, she ate the scrap, though she winced and lay still in pain for a long while afterward. Mantis understood. Her throat had to hurt badly. A sympathetic frown crossed his maw as he passed more food over to her. How he wished he could help her...
"Hello," he said quietly, almost timidly, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
There, at the back of the den, lay a she-dog, and as his eyes adjusted, Mantis realized that her eyes were closed. She was asleep. He padded over, his brow furrowing as his gaze stopped on her throat. Her throat had been wounded badly, on top of several other wounds to her face and sides, and this she-dog had been left to die. But in spite of Mantis finding her and getting her to the safety of this den, she didn't seem to be doing well. He brought her food every day and talked to her to keep her company. Still, she was so weak... Mantis wasn't sure what else he could do.
He smiled, noticing the she-dog's eyes open slowly. She smiled back, and her bushy tail wagged slowly. "Are you hungry?" Mantis asked, tilting his head with concern at her.
Slowly, she nodded in response. Her eyes followed him to the other side of the den, where he picked up the meat scraps he had brought and carried them over. He ripped open the bag, and the delicious smell of beef filled the den. "Here," Mantis said quietly, taking a piece and placing it by her maw.
Eagerly, she ate the scrap, though she winced and lay still in pain for a long while afterward. Mantis understood. Her throat had to hurt badly. A sympathetic frown crossed his maw as he passed more food over to her. How he wished he could help her...