Blackfoot Forest let me fly fly fly

It's dark in here with night deepening, but he finds comfort in the steely glow of the moonlit that does break through. What does concern him, with time, is first some scent. Familiar, somewhat, and that was what bothered him. He threaded on through the trees carefully, closer and closer until his nose burned with the coppery odor of blood.

He is unsettled to realize in full who this is, yet now in sight of him, he wishes it weren't true and that his mind isn't remembering right somehow. With blood this prevalent on his senses, it has him on edge but he does finish his approach. It's him, and he can't help but feel so compelled, even if every better sense told him to just leave it alone, then move along off into the night.

Inari whined softly as he hesitated over the final strides to his side, and most of all, it was disbelief, worry, and sorrow that come rushing all at him when he can better see the extent. Although the scout stayed ready to recoil and flee should he have to, since it has been so long, he moved in to gently nudge his cheek and wish there was more he could do. He had a decent understanding on how to help keep them clean, possibly ease some of the worst of the pain.. but he had no stocks, and had not put effort into such a notion in many moons. He would have to do what he could to help; the woods could make for shelter, there were creeks near, he could find something. 

But, when his contact is not repelled, he found himself easing into it and wishing the circumstances were not these. Another soft whine, and he reached to see the wounds with sorrow etched into his green gaze; they worried him badly, perhaps rightfully so, and there were not enough questions that could spill forth from his quivering lips to get the answers he would need. Instead, he found a curious acceptance, and a wherewithal to move forward--with him, if he may.