Juniper had been surveying the rise for any useful plants that survived the frost. Their attention focused on the dormant, dead, or dying plants that dotted the rise. The trees closest to the golden glade had shed their leaves in massive piles. The few plants hardy enough to persist through the winter would be harvest only when absolutely needed. To pick their leaves and berries too early would simply encourage them rot, even if the colder weather would slow it. A deep furrow had set itself into their brow.

HELP! HELP ME!

The small wolf snapped her head in the direction of the shrill voice. The pitch setting her hair on end. Her heart skipped to realize just how young the voice sounded. Juniper's oaken gaze swept over the environment, searching for the one in need.

A small, tan figure streaked through the trees, and Juniper identified it as a boy racing towards her.

What's wrong?! Before she knew it, her voice had taken into the air. The fact that this boy was not of the rise did not matter in this instance. Fear oozed out of every breath and frantic movement the child made.

Juniper found that their arms had opened to receive the child in his flight, their gaze shifted to the land behind him to glimpse whatever he ran from.