#wolf time

~

Pup. Here, now. Time’s bark is all serious and Twilight wakes groggily. 

Standing, he yawns and stretches his front paws, claws digging into the dirt. 

Pup! 

Time’s not really saying pup; it’s more little-pack-protect-young, but the rancher’s wolf-minded brain easily translates it for his Hylian half. 

Coming, coming. With another yawn, Twilight ambles to the outskirts of the clearing where Time was keeping an eye on the cub. 

Help. The whine needs no translation and Twilight is instantly wide awake. 

Wild is curled on the ground, half under a bush, and whimpering. 

Cub? Hurt? Twilight steps forward and nudges him, nose wrinkling at the sour smell around him. 

Wild only moans, pressing his forehead to the ground. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s sweating. 

What? What? Twilight turns back to Time for an explanation, but the other wolf is as lost as he is. How can they help a Hylian without hands? 

Twilight tries again, Hurt? Sick? Why are they locked to this pantomime of language? He can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong!

The cub doesn’t answer, just jerks away to be sick. His lips are stained nearly black, matched by the dark color of his vomit. 

Time whines steadily, crawling on his belly to Wild and looking to Twilight for help. He nudges the hero again and his hands unclench, something rolling free. 

It’s smashed, but Twilight recognizes the sharp, sour smell. Poison berries. 

He runs through every curse he can think of and makes some up for good measure. How is he supposed to care for a sick Hylian like this? 

Sick, bad, do not eat. 

Hurt? Time’s attention is sharpening at Twilight’s words. 

Hurt, he confirms. Danger.

The two wolves turn to look at their cub. Wild whimpers and curls in a tighter ball, clutching his stomach. They have no fairies or potions, or any way to provide first aid. The most the wolves can do is keep him company. And pray. 

It takes two full days of sickness and misery for Wild’s body to stop rebelling. Partway through Time helps Twilight bully the cub onto his feet and lead him to a stream for water. 

His whimpers cut, but it’s better than him becoming dehydrated on top of it. Nothing will stay down, but hopefully, it means the last of the poison is expelled as well. 

Time’s wears his paw pads raw pacing and Twilight can barely keep his eyes open. He appoints himself on watch most hours, even though he can do little while Wild sweats and pants. By the time the color fades from the cub’s cheeks, everyone is exhausted.

Hungry. 

It takes a long, dull moment for Twilight to focus on Wild and translate body language into words. He gives another yip, repeating it. Hungry!

Stay! No hunt! Time’s snarl has Wild cowering back into his shallow cave-den

Twilight shoots his mentor a tired look before crawling in next to him. Safe, peace, food yes.

Time seems unconvinced until Twilight gestures with his head. He will stay with the cub and Time can find him food. Safe food. 

It takes a while for him to return and when he does he’s covered in dirt. However, he’s gripping a large radish by the stalk. It may not be the best food for a sensitive stomach, but it doesn’t need to be cooked. 

Wild snatches the vegetable, then begrudgingly washes it in the stream when Time snarls warningly. The first few bites stay down and some of the clamminess fades from his skin. 

Twilight wiggles into the cave first, flopping on his belly so Wild can cuddle into his fur. Time joins on the other side, sandwiching him. 

“S-sorry,” Wild whispers. Then again, sorry, with a duck of his head and low whine. 

Oh, Cub. Scared, worried, keep you safe. 

On the other side, Time thrums, packmate, safe, love.

Finally settling, Wild rumbles back his own love, love, pack before drifting into quiet sleep.