When Setka takes the final step from stone to grass, his legs threaten to buckle. The relief to have triumphed over the climb left the man lightheaded, but he could not stop yet. On trembling limbs, Setka staggered across the plateau. Red eyes searched through the misted haze of the rain for a place to rest.

The boy had gone limp in his jaws with only the tiny rise and fall of his chest indicating that he held on to life. They needed a dry place to shelter; the boy needed warmth.

The shelter that Setka settled upon was a small cave in the side of a higher plateau than the one he stood upon. The floor of the cave was slanted, preventing water from pooling all the way to the back wall. The cave mouth sat in a puddle, but only a few strides carried Setka back onto dry stone. There he lowered himself to the floor and nestled the boy in the crook of his arm.

Setka put himself to work drying the pup, lapping away at the boy's sodden fur. As he groomed, Setka made sure to massage the pup's body to encourage blood flow. He even lowered his muzzle to the boy's skin and breathed as though he was trying to tend to that fading fire within the boy. To kindle whatever spark of life remained.

The coywolf curled around the pup as tightly as he could. Tired eyes focused on the rise and fall of the child's chest. Setka's own body had used the last of its reserves to carry them here. Resting his chin over the pup's back, Setka allowed his eyes to close.

The rain droned on outside, but Setka would still be in the cave whenever the pup woke.

---