Anxius winced and carefully lay back down on the ground. He glanced at the wound in his side. Blood matted his once white fur. He turned away and rested his head on the ground, trying to not think any more about it. He looked up at the wolf bemusedly. What was the wolf thinking? He wanted to help the hyenas who almost killed his little rabbit friend? Northerners certainly had a different way of approaching their wounded enemies, that was for sure. "Tell me," Anxius grumbled, "why would you want to help me? Truly."

(Sorry for the somewhat rushed yet still late post. Having a lot of trouble writing lately, and I have to go out in a few minutes.)