The boy's voice rattled out of his tiny body. Setka does not understand the words the child babbles, but readily assumes the boy is asking after his kin. He cannot answer the child as he carries it, but that fragile voice indicated the boy still clung to life.

Setka cannot say for how long that life will last.

Further away from the shoreline, Setka can discern the milk scent on the boy. So subtle amongst the stench of salt. There is a furrow to his brow as the pup paddles fruitlessly at his belly. He does not dissuade the boy, not yet. Setka could withstand the discomfort if it meant the pup was moving his own body. In turn, keeping himself warm.

Setka does not keep track of the time, his eyes fixed solely on the life stirring within the boy. Of the drying of that damp coat of pup fuzz. This age was an ambiguous period for children. Their health so delicate, they also had limited individuality. Their coats typically a muddy, darker variant of their adult colors. Even still, Setka could distinguish the boy as a full-blooded wolf pup. From the set of his ears, to the roundness of his chin.

A cold sea breeze stirred at his back, bringing the man to shiver himself. Glancing over his shoulder, Setka found that the blue ocean water had turned into a choppy gray color. Once playful waves now began to lash at the rocks. A gray hue hovered over the horizon.

The lines at his brow deepened.

Rain.

Setka nudged the boy off his belly and shifted so the child was tucked at his chest. With the pup nestled there between a bony leg and an amputated stub, ruby eyes scoured the cliff faces. It was always easier to come down than to go back up. Gravity assured it. But if the rain didn't snuff out the boy's fragile embers from sheer cold, it could very well keep them trapped down by the cove.

The coywolf could feel the rise of dread. It was a familiar feeling that left him cold and sluggish. Yet the race of his heart reminded him of the urgency the situation called for. Even if it looked bleaker by the second.

Setka had left his fawnskin with Myyrh. An indication to the woman that he had the intention to return. It would have been useful in this moment. He could of wrapped the boy while he tested a route upwards. He would have to plan the best he could with his eyes, and test the route on the fly.

His eyes lingered on the ledge halfway up the cliff face. He could climb his way down, so he must be able to climb his way up. He could set the pup on the ledge as he figured out their ascent.

Setka dipped his head down, his nose brushing the top of the boy's skull.

I'm going to need you to be very still for me. He did his best to keep his sentences simple. Was the boy even being raised by the common tongue? We cannot stay here.

Setka's eyes remained on the boy, hoping to see that little mouth respond. If only to see if the boy's milk teeth were even erupting.