Bearclaw Valley when i was young, i needed it
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#1
All Welcome 
AW! set a few days after after this thread clicky - however much time it takes her to travel from kintla to here? this would be a good thread for anyone going for MEDIC trades! tags are for visibility but feel free to join <3

she was cold -- so cold -- her toes numb and her lips quivered with each wracking sob. the snow she curled in was sullied by clots of blood, the surface a mottled and faded red. occasionally she would shift with small cries, tenderly reorganizing her limbs in a new folded position as she hunched down into the snow. she had no energy to make herself a den - no rally to even crawl out from the open. the blood-loss and her inability to hunt rendered her positively incapable of sustaining herself.

she was aware that if she did not eat soon, and did not find shelter, that she would die.

she slept feverishly, and a chill had long since descended her. once or twice she had tried to call out for @Laurel and even @Xan, the latter she barely knew -- but every time she drew in enough breath for a howl, her voice choked from her throat in weak and feeble gasps.

she refused to look at her haunches, and she sobbed deeply for the loss of her tail. more than anything she wanted to dig herself a deep and endless hole, and bury herself in it -- only every movement caused deep pain, and she was fearful with each passing day an infection would consume her.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
Kunujâk
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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.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”
you're the unbreakable heart
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She arrived shortly after Xan. After a short moment in which she immediately wanted to shout, what did you do! she realised that Indra'd called for both her and Xan at the same time, so he couldn't possibly be the culprit. "Fuck!" she spat as she rushed to Indra's side and scooted down to the ground by her head. "In, what happened?" she asked and she started to lick Indra's face soothingly like a mother would wash their pups. She knew shit all about medic stuff, but she knew how to make In feel better, and that was about the best she could do right now.

"Don't just stand there, get a medic!" she shouted at Xan while she crawled closer to Indra, wrapping her forepaws round her sister's front with probably the most worried and vulnerable frown she'd ever had on her face.
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#4
u guys melting my heart
indra was dimly aware of a figure approaching -- she cowered immediately, pushing her muzzle deep into the slow as she closed her eyes and awaited death to come. but it didn't. instead she heard xan's familiar voice, and slowly she pulled her head from the burrowed snow and looked piteously upon him.

when laurel came, horror and concern painted clearly across her face, indra's sobbing rose anew to see her sister's vulnerable expression. she trembled in the snow and turned her head weakly to her sibling, trying to reciprocate laurel's gentle kisses with feeble laps of her own. "i-i'm cold." she shuddered, her voice hoarse with pain. "he wanted to eat me," she cried, trying to worm her way under laurel as pain and sobs wracked her body. she was still in shock; her voice was thick and almost slurred, and tremors razed her small body.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
Kunujâk
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#5
He knew she needed a medic, that much was obvious. The only problem being that he couldn’t think of any medics to call. He tried to think, being reminded almost immediately of Ocra, but didn’t stop to consider calling her before his mind bounced off and onto another name: @Poet. He didn’t know if she was around or out but hoped to high hell that she was at least near enough to hear him, wherever she was, as he loosed a call for her. Having never seen her at work, he didn’t know just how vast her knowledge was, but figured it would be better than his other option—who he’d only ever seen treat minor wounds, long ago, and Indra’s wasn’t anything close to minor.

Xan’s ears fell flat against his head as the sobbing intensified, feeling uncomfortable but also wanting to help. He stood there for a while, just watching the sisters, before dropping down to his stomach and inching closer; he didn’t know what he could do for her, still, but he wanted to do something. “Do you remember what he looked like?” he asked. “Where’d this happen?” If he couldn’t help her medically, then maybe he could at least look into finding whatever beast had done this to her.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
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#6

Her altar's preparations are slow, but she does not mind. Proper ablutions take time and she will not skimp in the quality of her offerings simply because winter limits her choices. And her daily routine brings back a sense of normalcy that cements her decision to follow the portent. This is not such a bad life for a sinner.

Her meditations are broken by a howl summoning her; the sound is frantic and she rouses herself with more quickness than she'd usually grant. The scene as she comes upon it is grisly and it takes a moment for her to process more than blood and despair 

(a flash of something deeply buried: shocked, wounded silver eyes, tufts of fur in the field, the taste of blood --)

Instinct is something easy to fall into. Poet descends to the girl's side, opposite the other tending to her, and looks at Xan, eyes bright and clear in a way they've not been in months. "What's caused this?" She asks, voice brisk, and then softer, to the girl, "may I examine you? I won't touch without permission."
you're the unbreakable heart
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#7
Laurel waited impatiently while Xan called, the worried frown on her face while she bathed Indra in licks. She received some in return, causing a weak smile to tug at her lips. Indra feeling cold was probably a bad sign and she looked at Xan with a do something! face, but there was nothing he could do either. He asked what her attacker looked like, a thing Laurel thought stupid and unnecessary at the time but that she would be grateful for later.

Some other wolf arrived and Laurel looked up at them with a worried frown. She nosed Indra's cheek and whispered softly, "It's okay, you're safe," hoping it would encourage her to let the medic take a look at her.
i will pry his bony fingers free
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#8
last post for me, feel free to PP indra (you can also PP her in other posts if you want)! i figure if we all reply, that'll be enough to archive for the pack's needed threads? thanks for the thread<3<3

a shudder rose unbidden in her spine as they gathered around her. she was distinctly aware of their presence, but her vision swam as she tried to uphold them in her gaze. an unfamiliar figure slid across her vision, sharp-faced among a sea of swimming hues. she nodded stiffly at the slender apparition's inquest, and tried to speak: "i was at the plains where the buffalos were." she fumbled, almost incoherent: "he was black with white patches and orange eyes." thinking of him brought cries anew to her throat and she buried her head deep into laurel's chest and spoke no longer.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
Kunujâk
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#9
last here, too. and dittoing above ! pp xan however, as needed

As Poet arrived, Xan pushed himself back up to his feet, giving her the space that he was sure she needed to work. His ears perked with interest as Indra described her attacker, then fell back as he imagined him. I’ll find him, he wanted to tell her, I’ll kill him—but he kept silent, jaw clenching. She hadn’t deserved this.

“I can help move her if you need it,” he offered a moment later, looking between Poet and Laurel. Otherwise, he kept quiet and out of the way, observing until he was needed—and if he wasn’t, he’d eventually leave to the entrance to stand guard and watch for any black and white wolves.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
184 Posts
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#10


A slight nod is all she gets in response but the girl seems to be barely holding on as is. She grimaces, feeling a flash of anger at the slurred description. It does not take much to paint a picture of what might have happened. She hesitates at Xan's question, glancing between the woman still by her side and the leader. The girl has lost enough blood that she's concerned to move her much, but leaving her out in the cold is hardly ideal. Poet licks her lips, an anxious tic, and says, "we should move her somewhere safe and pack the wound with clean snow."

It's at least a start, and Poet moves to carry the girl, assuming assistance from Xan and the other. Her mind races, trying to think of what they'll be able to find quickly in this weather: marigold dies with frost but perhaps she can find some poppy ... "I might have some poppy stored," she murmurs, glancing at the others, "but if you have any cache or know of someone close by who might, that would be helpful."
you're the unbreakable heart
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my last too, then -- feel free to wrap it up with a fade with your next post, E! :) you may assume Laurel did whatever necessary/asked to help Indra.

Laurel looked up at the medic, hoping that she actually had any clue what the fuck she was doing. The worried frown never ceased as she bathed Indra in licks and listened absentminded to the description she gave. "Don't worry, we'll kill him for what he did," Laurel said in a soothing voice as she stayed close to Indra. She looked at the medic as they instructed to move Indra. Laurel helped where necessary, and nodded absently as the medic mentioned having poppy or whatever (knowing nothing about herbs, she had no clue what this even meant) and would help wherever needed.
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
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#12


With help they carry the torn body to relative safety, where Poet packs the wound with freshly collected snow. She is not a medic but she does her best, and if a murmured prayer escapes under breath, no one need know the origin. The wound is bad but survivable, and after leaving basic instructions on cleansing for the others, Poet makes her way to see if she can obtain any small amount of poppy for the girl's pain.