[oh thank lord. unlike any scene from any zombie movie, there's nothing but relief that grips him when he sees cliff's form emerging from the dirt, the remainder of the grave filling the coffin as the wolf leaves it.
except relief is shortlived and outweighed by worry at how heavy the wolf's chest rises and falls with each breath, desperate for air. the shovel is promptly ditched and oscar scrambles next to him, dropping to his knees. and he knows, knows that cliff hates being touched, but the circumstances outweigh the reminder. he brushes a hand over cliff's face, shaking off the dirt clinging to the fur around his eyes and ears in once motion. then he's just worrying there.]
Are you okay? [as okay as he can be, given the circumstances.]
no subject
except relief is shortlived and outweighed by worry at how heavy the wolf's chest rises and falls with each breath, desperate for air. the shovel is promptly ditched and oscar scrambles next to him, dropping to his knees. and he knows, knows that cliff hates being touched, but the circumstances outweigh the reminder. he brushes a hand over cliff's face, shaking off the dirt clinging to the fur around his eyes and ears in once motion. then he's just worrying there.]
Are you okay? [as okay as he can be, given the circumstances.]