Sybrix had been sleeping for quite a bit, her fever had begun to subside a bit, but her head was still spinning with hurt. How she would be happy once this blasted pain was gone. But, all was well... The hell hound was gone, though John was injured, and for that she berated herself. Her mate was there, and her four puppies. She smiled in her sleep, such wonderful little things, they were, though the white female, whom she'd named Ranger of Snow, would be the ever curious. Keeping her on her toes... And now that they were little over 3 weeks old, they were big enough now to begin to really frazzle her nerves.

However, her reverie of thought was thrust back into the abysmal bleak blackness of her mind as she felt the all too familiar stroking of fingers over ears. At his soft tones, she flittered her ears back and shook her head, raising her jaws only up enough to give herself ample room for a nice long yawn. Teeth clicking back together, she shook once more as her body sputtered with the action, administering a short, soft jostle to the four sleeping puppies at her side. She glances to each of them, making sure their still there, and turning to Fire-Eyes, whom was still sleeping. Poor lad, she was happy to have him at her side. She loved him with all her heart and soul. She let out a soft groaning, and a thump of her tail as she turned again to John, eyeing his wrist with a frown and tilt of head, before blinking and expression softening.

“Neh? John?”

A smile greeted the Collie's waking expression, easing away her furrowed brow at the sight of his wrist. It was a small injury, compared to what could well have happened. "Good morning, lass," said John warmly, the cool den beginning to lose its slight chill as the sun rose and warmed the earth, casting a filtered light into the chamber and rimming the crouching human with a faint bright outline, "How are you feeling?" Her ears were still hot, he could tell, resting his good hand against the back of her left auricle. How motherly she looked, sluggish as she was roused from slumber, but calm and patient. She would be an excellent mum for the cubs, he was certain, and despite her temperature, the contentment her litter gave her was easy to see. It was like those little bundles filled some integral space in her heart, and it made him happy to see it.

“Urr, still ah bit on tha’ warm side of things, head still aches...  Think’s though, otherwise, am good.” She gave an equally warm gander back, brown hues full of a mother’s soul and loyalty of a man’s faithful companion. She raised her head to yawn again, licking the sides and top of her maw, she brought her forepaws together before her and crossed them. Her tail gave a few soft beats as she snuffled a bit, eyes becoming adjusted to the light shining in on the den’s walls, outlining John like the savior she saw him as. Her Lord.

It was true that a good companion to any good man, was a good dog. Humans were the Dog’s God, and they knew it. They respected them, obeyed them, and would die for them, should the connection be as strong as it could be. Sybrix eyed John as her savior, but not her God. However, going against the grain of dogdom, she was not breaking any written law, she knew she was canis, but was raised lupus, and in so, acted accordingly. John was her superior, her alpha, and yet, a deep, and very honorable master. She would do anything for him and her pups, her mate. Her Gods were wolves, and it would always be so, for in her head, she was just as large and fiercely beautiful as her dark pelted sister. Sybrix smiled, though the memories of NightTracker were sad, the memories of the past still held that spark. One day, she hoped to see the ebony wolf once more. Perhaps. She hrmphed in thought, as she turned again to John, having lost her train of thought and eyes roamed elsewhere.

“Gooing oot, are we?” Expression questioning. How she wished she could accompany him if he was. He needed protecting, and none of the canids in this den were of any shape nor form to aid him in his travels, for this Sybrix gave a small growl, before soft browns glance towards his face once more.

"Aye, you do feel hot..." he said, taking his hand back from the dog's ear, a bit of concern showing on his scraggy face, "You should have another one of those leaves, fevers are worst at night and in the morning. Take one now and it should tide you through to the evening, if you haven't fought it off by then. You need rest and relaxation I think, ease those stress levels a bit, eh?" The human grinned, adjusting how he held his throbbing wrist, it was waking up as well. Damn that Aranok and his emo rage, this injury was going to be a real pain in the arse. He would have been flattered, and abashed, to learn just how much Sybrix thought of him. He was no magnificent overlord or powerful being, just a young man with a heart grown old and dogged from the poor ways of civilization, choosing instead to live out here away from it all, in a world where different, more basic, natural laws held sway.

"But yeah, I have to get us some water, and maybe a few berries to help that deer go down. The taste of venison's getting stale now," he chuckled, smiling down at her. What a good dog she was, thinking of him even in her condition, he could tell. He'd be alright though, and enjoyed the confident air of the fighter who had trained extensively and was sure of his skills, but had only never been beaten in combat because he had yet to face an opponent. Nothing would get in the way of him fetching their breakfast this morning, simply because he wouldn't allow it. Looking up to the shelf where his water bottle was kept, he shuffled over a pace and reached up, tugging it down, it was large enough for two days' worth of water or so, and could be supplemented with melted snow if need be. Husky was still asleep along the wall of the den, and Fire-Eyes at the back by his mate, just off the bed. It was a cozy little family, he thought, smiling vacantly just at the feeling of it. A pack, it felt like. He turned back to Sybrix, the first to have joined him here so long ago, and the one who had opened the door to her world, and invited him to step through it.

She smiled, and chuckled smoothly. Ahh, yes, she was getting thirsty, come to think of it... And a few berries here and there would be a nice change, seeing as how wolves did eat the occasion berry bush and insect from time to time. They didn’t eat just meat. They'd eat anything they could get their grubby paws on. Sybrix thumped her tail a few times and eyed him thankfully a moment.

“Ah wish ah could go with yah, John...” her accented vocals trailed, “Boot... Yew know...” she sighed. She wanted to be with him, but she must remain in the den with her young ones until they are able to make trips outside their homeland on their own. She smiled again. She couldn’t wait to get out there with them. She'd even grown somewhat accustomed to Husky being in there with them. It was a rather small... Misfits pack, that was for sure. She turned back to John. “Safe walk, lad.” With that, she allowed her head to fall back onto her forepaws as her children nestled themselves warmly against her stomach and began to nurse, kneading with small paws and drinking greedily, mewing and growling against each other. Music to the collie’s ears as she relaxed into them.

"I know," he said, reaching out and stroking her head softly as she laid it down to rest, sparing a look to her little ones. He felt kind of like an uncle, or a grandparent, to the tiny fuzzballs. That made him smile, and he gave Sybrix one last caress on the back of the neck before fishing one of Omara's medicinal leaves from his sabretache, laying it on the edge of the bed for her. He should really take one himself, but he never liked taking pills when he was in England, and he wasn't about to start doping himself up now, not while the pain was endurable. "I'll be back soon," he said, taking up his bottle for the water again and shuffling backwards towards the den's exit.

Anything else he'd need... He ran through a small checklist in his head. Setting up the fishing nets, nope, just a good pair of hands. Well, a hand. Check. Water from the river, one empty bottle. Check. Berries, hand again, check. Okay, he was sorted. As he turned to make his careful way up the tunnel with his arm cradled close to his chest, he caught sight of the cast still in place on Husky's foreleg, pausing to look at it. Bandages, firmly wound, but still just bandages around a plastic or wooden splint, none of that hard plaster stuff they sometimes used. Hmm, if her leg was healed enough, perhaps he could get that thing off of her when he came back with their food and drink. Making a note of it, he ducked up towards the light of day, and emerged into the dazzling morning, snowscape glistening in the sunshine.

He'd almost stepped on a rabbit, he realized, straightening up and arching his back, stretching it. Strange, he didn't remember four rabbits hopping up to his home and dying in front of it. Someone must've left them there, a gift, and he looked around for who it might have been. A wolf, by the vague tracks in the snow, looked female. Times like this made him wish he was a wolf himself, to have a nose so sensitive it could give detailed information about just such a scene as this. Who left the rabbits, what sex they were, how healthy, what they'd eaten recently, something about where they'd been, how long ago... So many secrets in the wolf's world that, even with his way of life, he could not be privvy to.

He saw her then, sitting placidly up towards the pine forest, along the incline that climbed to the trees. Omara, he thought, it was obvious now, she must have wanted to make an offering of apology for yesterday, it was typical of the kind ledrene, Of course.

The human smiled, and made his way towards their visitor, the snow's hard crust crunching underfoot as it began to melt and give way to the grass below in places. John slowed as he got nearer, and dropped to his haunches respectfully, it wouldn't hurt to stop and thank the Tharadra'al alpha. It would mean using what meagre lupine he could muster, but gratitude would be easy to express, even if he had to carry it more with body language than sounds. "Thankyou lots," he gruffed as best he could, bowing his head to the old wolf, "For food."

-NightTracker & the other one