The weeks that had passed since he found himself in that little cave had been a blur. The boy was rail thin, his white fur smudged with mud, body bruised and shoulder throbbing. When he finally had a chance to run, he took it, escaping down a well-worn goat track to the nearest cover he could find that wasn't home. He knew the mountain was somewhere behind him, and that his mother and father were probably worried sick. He was worried sick that his attacker had moved onto his sister when he found out his punching bag was gone...
Oh Noah... His stomach flipped and bile rose in the back of his throat.
His steps slowed as he neared the wall of scents. Strangers were bad... but he was desperate. Taking a deep breath and doing his best to sound far more than he was, he howled to the residents, hoping his faith and optimism wouldn't be met with more teeth.