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Oh, this was a terrible idea. She stood poised outside the den with fangs ready and her shoulder, glancing once around the make sure she was alone. Abruptly, her head moved and she quickly, neatly, tore open her shoulder. She winced, both at the taste of her own blood in her mouth and the sharp pain, but did not waste much time before moving to the small piles of herbs she'd assembled. She wasn't all sure which ones made poultices and which ones were eaten, but vaguely she remembered Krypton having her eat the spiky green ones, once. 

For a moment she contemplated, before deciding that the healer wouldn't have stockpiled herbs that could kill a wolf and delicately plucking the withered leaves from the ground and chewing their bitterness. Swallowing, she sat in nervous wait, glancing at the other unknown or mostly unknown herbs and trying to determine (read: guess) which she ought to apply as a poultice.

Another ordinary day in Easthollow brought Nanook further inland than usual. Though her feet stuck near the borders more often than not, she felt a strange and growing ease with the thought of leaving the patrol to the others when she needed to hunt, or to sleep. Or to eat - and she sought food today, Krypton's long-off words a reminder she needed to keep her strength up if she truly wanted to be of use here.

Leaving the caches for the younger of their lot, Nanook set about to find the trail of something fresh, but caught an unexpected scent instead, mixed with the familiar. Bile nipped at her throat, a sudden surge of panic, but she cooled herself and picked a hasty path to where Keoni settled a little ways away, her shoulder stained with a fresh wound and blood. A low growl rumbled from the Apaata's throat and she pushed closer, eyes dark and her mouth drawn in a nervous line. She glanced to Keoni, then to her wound, which looked as though it had been made by something more than branches and briars...

After a few moments, the sharp pain lessened; Keoni's brows raised as she wondered if she'd done something right on her first try. She poked the leaves again, drawing in their scent and committing to memory their shape. Pain relief. She poked at the wound, cleaning away the blood, half wondering whether or not to purposefully let it get infect. She winced at the thought, for that seemed to dwell into far more dangerous territory. Besides, she could always treat it with marigold (probably)-

She twisted as a low growl had her hackles bristle a moment, before recognizing a pack mate. She suddenly felt oddly guilty, but surely her experimentation was for the good of science. The packmate - ook? rook? - moved closer with a nervous set of her muzzle. Keoni chuffed, tail wagging softly behind her and ears pricked, light gaze falling a moment on the darkened optics of the other. She sought to convey that all was fine; even though her odd guilt had not quite gone away.

Nanook crooked her brow at the look the silver girl passed her - much too calm and assuring to alleviate suspicion. The Apaata picked a glance at the dressed up wound, then to the girl, then to the wound, before finally settling her still darkened gaze on Keoni for good. Nanook had seen wounds like this before, and they had only come from other animals - other wolves. Her eyes narrowed. Why, then, did she act like this was nothing? Who was she protecting?

The Apaata thrust her muzzle in a pointed gesture toward the silver girl's shoulder. "Who did this?" and took the opportunity as an equal chance to draw out the scents that clung to the medic's fur. Yet beyond the tang of blood and poultice, she sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing foreign, nor troublesome - just the overwhelming scent of Easthollow. "Someone here?" She bristled at the thought, but if Keoni gave even the slightest hint that one of their own had harmed her...