Bearclaw Valley when i was young, i needed it

He didn’t find her quickly, he wasn’t immediately there to tend to her. No, it’d taken him some time to find the mangled body, the depths of the woods having held him captive. It was the eventual frustration felt over being unable, still, to locate his old, hidden stash of goods that drove him out and into the open—shortly after which he came across the girl, drawn in her direction by the distinct scent of blood. The closer he got, the more smells he picked up on—stale piss and Indra—and the quicker his legs moved, expression hardened and body ready to attack, the scene he was to be met by unknown—

—and unexpected.

Seeing a lone lump of red in the snow, his eagerness to attack faded away, whilst his anger grew—as did his worry and fear, not knowing what to do after taking in the full damage done. At first, he couldn’t move, only stare with wide eyes and try to figure out what the hell happened. Had that happened within his valley? Hurriedly, his gaze swept over the surrounding areas and he drew in as deep of breaths as he could, searching for anything that might suggest the assailant was still around, though there was nothing to find; a single set of prints, no scents other than the ones that belonged there—nothing. Still panicked, either way, he crept closer, but never enough to touch her—what was he supposed to do?

“Indra?” he forced out, voice faulty. Shit. He knew he needed a healer but, with his mind a mess, the only one he could think to call was Potema—but she was too far, she would never hear his call, and he doubted she’d aid him even if she could. “I don’t—what do I do?” He couldn’t remember who had experience, or even if anyone did. At a loss, he lifted his muzzle and just howled—not for anyone in particular, but everyone that was within the reach of his voice. One of them had to know what to do, had to be able to help her.