Gut had froze in his tracks at the debacle he gallivanted into. Four wolves, two females, a motionless pup, and a large male, all of them starving. The male, white, with splashes of, paint on him? Something of a vibrant red. With that wolf around a fight was out of a question, even with hunger gnawing at him instinct told Gut that bigger beat smaller here. But then there was the pup, looking to be dead or asleep, possibly even freezing. If he was quick enough. . . But what then? Could he outrun them? The females he believed he could, they were as starved as he and he doubted they'd had any sort of meal as recently as he. The large male, though, he would outrun Gut, and eat him and the dead pup for food.
What alternative then? One of the females had him in her attention. A coat of gray and white on that one. Gut could not fight for his food right now, not with that male here nor with the numbers against him. Conversation then, he could converse still, maybe. Gut nearly coughed out the words, the feeling of spoken speech alien to him, "H-, Hello. . ."
What alternative then? One of the females had him in her attention. A coat of gray and white on that one. Gut could not fight for his food right now, not with that male here nor with the numbers against him. Conversation then, he could converse still, maybe. Gut nearly coughed out the words, the feeling of spoken speech alien to him, "H-, Hello. . ."