One of Setka's worries is alleviated by the child. The boy begs from him. The miniscule muzzle probed at his chin and lip. The boy's snuffling causes an involuntary turn of Setka's stomach. Unfortunately for the pup, Setka only has bile to offer; his own stomach was empty. Setka swallowed the bitter fluid, a sigh hiking his shoulders.

The boy had started weaning. If only in the earliest stages, for he still dove for milk. Setka did not wish to force a complete transition of the child's diet, but if needs must he would have to be cruel. Setka could not provide the boy milk, and even if he could somehow to convince Myyrh to consume Goat's Rue, could he even trust milk from the strange girl? She knowingly sampled poison. Nor would it be worth it to trick the girl's body to produce if the boy could be fed on finely minced meat.

Fed is best. It was what Imhotep taught him. But the boy would have to wait a little while longer. Setka would not brave the tidepools, for the marooned sea-life within were now harshly excavated by angered waves. Many a land creature would be sheltering in place. And he ultimately could not leave the boy unattended.

Begging had exhausted the pup. Setka looked guiltily down at those baleful eyes. Blue with youth, the boy could do nothing but ask for help. The pup could not even chew his own food at this point. How did a boy so dependent for care end up here, alone on the shore?

Beyond his racing thoughts, Setka can hear the boy speak. "Oba?"

Setka, was all the man answered in reply.

Setka was not this boy's oba, but a part of him considered it may be easier for the boy to say. Some children had problems with their "S" sounds. If that proved the case with this boy, Setka still could not take the place of the boy's family. Even if he tried, Setka was not all wolf. None would believe him if he claimed the child as his own.

The sound of rain drops upon stone began to drone. Rising, Setka knew that it was time to move. He lowered his head to the pup, his jaws wrapping around the boy's midriff. Setka could not trust the boy's scruff during this climb. It was too small of a tether to bind them.

Lifting the boy into the air, Setka approached the cliff base. His ears flattened against the wind and rain, eyes narrowing as he lifted his gaze upwards. He had to make it half way, then they could have a break on the broad ledge overhead. Setka had fallen to that ledge after rolling down a slope, so there must be a hidden crag that led to the plateau. He would have to find it.

After pacing at the base long enough to shake out his nerves, Setka shifted his weight to his rear limbs. Pushing upwards, he placed his forepaw onto the first foothold of many.