When they had first come upon the maned wolf’s battered body, Daemron hadn’t hesitated to send his wine-dark son across plague-ridden lands to find a healer. The thought disturbs him now more than he cares to let on – now that the panic had abated and his mind had cleared – and while he hates recalling how carelessly he had risked Brigade’s wellbeing, he is proud of the way the boy had handled himself. Admittedly, his firstborn was hardly a boy anymore. But Daemron doesn’t like to be reminded of that, either. In any case, Brigade wasn’t showing any signs of illness so far, and he breathes easier because of it.

(For now.)

He is standing watch over Red’s sleeping form when his ears twist toward an incoming sound. His willowed head soon follows, catching sight of their youngest’s approach. A low sound reverberates from his throat as the spirited filly draws near. The chestnut regards his daughter with no small amount of affection as he lets her nuzzle into him before turning to brush a kiss across her brow himself. “She’s all right, my May.” Glancing back down, he saw that the wolf had cracked an eyelid through which to survey the girl, though her nose remained tucked behind ruddy forepaws.

“I think she will,” he answers. Thanks to Brigade’s swift action and unyielding nature, Red’s life had been spared – and yet the greatest of her injuries had left a permanent mark. There was no getting rid of the harrowing scar that puckers jaggedly across her skull, no erasing the faint limp she’d borne ever since the bones of her hind paw had been crushed to dust. Whoever you are, you bastard, I’m coming for you, he thinks darkly, though he doesn’t let himself be overcome by the urge to slake his revenge – not yet, at least.

The moody glow of his grey gaze returns to May’s small yet stalwart form standing by his side, and his expression softens. “What do you think?” Though Red was still regaining her strength, she had been quick to accept each of his and Pyxis’ children as an extension of the pack – but Daemron had noticed that the maned wolf seemed to pay special attention when the youngest of their brood was around. It makes him curious, and so he awaits his young daughter’s answer with serious eyes trained carefully upon her.