Otatso Wetlands your actions don't rewind

On the wind, locals bark about the hauntings that linger within the Wetlands. The Wayfarer fears none, certainly not the dead. Injury, however, slows him down. His pace kept to a crawl now despite his urgings.

In the lowlight of sunset, the dark undergrowth and tangle of flora becomes an obstacle course. Lush grsses and plants pull at his legs; the cold muck of the Wetlands making each limb heavier.

Eventually, he finds a dry enough spot, reclining to lick his wounds once more.

[

hope you don't mind my intrusion, just figured it might be interesting

] 




Nyra slowly made her way through the wetlands. Her pitch-white fur darkened down her legs and slightly across her belly with mud. 
Perking her ears, she heard the faint heavy panting of another wolf. 
Out here? Must be a wanderer... Nyra assumed, turning her path toward the brown male in the underbrush. 
She stopped a few paces from his resting place, tilting her head slightly before righting her posture again "What happened to you?" The moon-cast lady inquired, her voice hinting at curioisty, while her body language was of wariness. 

I don't mind at all! Thank you for joining

A numb sensation overcomes the beast as he takes to cleaning the worser of his injuries. They still bleed, on occasion, when he moves too much and undoes the healing. He halts in his actions at the sound of an approach, head lifting and champagne eyes focusing on the mud-covered woman.

He isn't in the mood to fight, but he is on edge regardless.

The Wayfarer ignores her question, and asks instead; Who are you?

Nyra flicked one of her ears "I could ask you the same. But for manners sake, I am Nyra. What may I call you, in turn?" 
She shook out her fur a bit, waving her tail slowly. She didn't want a fight either, but would if she really needed to. 
"You look to be in rough shape." Nyra added as an offered ignorance to her question, taking a couple steps closer, but nothing further unless invited.

He cares less for her name and more-so for her title—who and where she comes from. Names are meaningless pieces of information the Wayfarer often forgets. Perhaps because they were never used, or given to those of his type.

Don’t have a name, he replies with a disinterested shrug. Her interest in his condition, and her further approach causes him to tense. His ears tug alert, lips peeling in a warning to not get any closer than she already has. Why are you interested? What are your intentions.

Nyra's brows furrowed again "I want to help." She said softly, looking him in the eyes for a couple quick moments to show her honesty before glancing away once more. 
"More specifically, I want to help, because I seek friendship in others, not enemies." She added, equally soft in tone, much unlike her louder voice before now.

Her eyes meet his. What he sees is a challenge; bull-headed, stubborn and true in what she wants. The Wayfarer’s fur rises upon his spine, if not for the mud that cakes his coat, it would be spikier than normal.

Friendship? He questions. There was once one that he would consider close to a friend, but he is no more, and since, the Wayfarer knew only commanders and enemies. Now, he’s broken free, and alone.

He snorts. You have strange taste. Yet he respects that she knows what she wants. It’s more than he has. His muscles relax, just a tad. If she’s a medic and wants to heal him, he won’t argue.

Nyra personally had little experience with healing, but nonetheless, she would try. 
Slowly, she crept forward and licked very lightly at one of his deeper wounds. She paused to look toward his face before she continued to lap at his wounds, hoping to try and stop the heavier bleeding before she attempted any sort of poultice or herbal paste.

Creeping forth, it still confuses the Wayfarer how one could be a mix of determined and submissive all the same. He’s trying to read her, figure out her whole purpose since the friendship spiel sounds full of hot air.

She ducks her head low, lapping at his wounds in the same places he had been grooming himself. His eyebrow twitches, champagne eyes locking on the back of her neck.

The thin, razor sharp wounds gave away that the injuries weren’t just from a battle gone wrong with a wolf. Nah, they’re from a cougar, and they really don’t want to stop bleeding.

What are you planning to do? He asks—not a healer himself so it isn’t like he could judge much. His experience with them is minimal.

Nyra could feel his gaze on her, burning, and still at least mildly suspicious. 
At his question, she spat his blood to the side and sat up to answer, "I plan to clean your wounds, and try to make a paste with some mashed herbs and some thicker mud to hold everything in place." 
The moon-lit female glanced at his face and inhaled deeply "The panther you faced, was it a female? If so, she was likely protecting her cubs, which may be why she felt threatened." She stood then, rummaging through the immediate plant growth to see if she could find anything familiar with healing properties. She sighed, noting she might have to look around the area and maybe a little further to find the plants she had in mind. Her grandmother, once a medic before her alpha status, had taught Nyra a little about plants and what would work to heal in case the then-8-month-old she-wolf found herself in a predicament.

He scratches the back of his brain for any hint that the cougar had kids running around. From what it seemed, she didn’t, but he also hadn’t paid that close attention. It was a situation where she made herself known and didn’t back off. The Wayfarer tips his head to the side, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

Yeah, maybe. Instead of thinking further on it, he watches her scavenge for these plants she spoke about. Herbs. What herb are you looking for? Maybe he could be an extra set of eyes, and he could learn how to take care of himself in the future. Knowing him, it’d be useful.

"I recall the two I'm looking for being called Water Plantain and some sort of Anemone. Both can be used in poultice form for wounds. With the Plantain, the root is what I need. Both can also be found in areas like this. They're both also out of season, given it's winter, but we might be lucky." Nyra explained, nosing through some slightly further plant growth before she finally found a small patch of the plantain a couple yards off. 
"Aha!" She yipped quietly with relief, digging at the dirt and mud until the roots were visible, from which point she tugged up a small mouthful of them and brought them over, spitting most of the collection gently to the ground beside him so she could chew the remaining roots into it's needed form.

She must have a four-leaf clover, because it’s not soon after that she—and he, by extension—fortunately finds the out of season plants. Dark ears swish forth with curious champagne eyes watching her dig the roots from the ground. A mouthful is grasped and brought to him. The Wayfarer has seen worst.

He inspects the split off roots, arching an eyebrow as she chews the other half.

Gonna place an IC offer in this one, so there's an oppertunity for us to continue to thread once this one closes up! :) 

After chewing for a couple minutes, Nyra glanced at him and took a moment to warn him "This will probably sting a bit. Or a lot. Grit your teeth, and please don't lunge at me when you feel the pain. That just means it's working." Then she applied the newly-made poultice to the worser of his wounds, rationing the chewed roots carefully over the gashes until it was all off her tongue. She then chewed the remaining roots and applied them to the rest of the wounds she could locate. With that done, she sat back and took a moment to breathe before looking to his face and speaking again "The poultice should last for a few days or so before needing re-applied. The patch of plantain is a few paces behind you. I purposefully left most of it there for when the batch I put on needs replaced. I believe I also saw a patch of the Anemone about a few more gallops worth away in case that is also needed. When I leave, since I am headed for Easthollow, I trust you can lick off the worn out poultice from your worser wounds when the time comes. If you wish to travel with me up until close to the border of the pack, however, I have no qualms. This would be a potentially lengthy travel for a wounded wolf like yourself, but it would provide less distance for when herbs need re-applied and so you can be fed while you heal. To be clear, I'm offering to do this out of the goodness of my heart, and will ask nothing of you in exchange." Nyra turned her head to look over her shoulder and around, swiveling her ears, just to give him a brief break from her voice. 
"If you want to stay here, that's your choice. But a wounded wolf cannot hunt, and therefore unless scavenging, cannot eat." The snowy girl sighed after she finished, pointedly ignoring her stomach, which just started rumbling right after she stopped speaking.

Thank you for the opportunity :D I’d love to have another thread with them sometime in the future, but his timeline is now a little funky and present dated he’s around Taiga now. We could continue along the adventure in this one & have them part ways, or back-date a second thread! Whichever you prefer.

A snort escapes the Wayfarer, a chuckle soon to follow after; amused that she would think a sting is the worst of what he’s dealt with. Pain is something the boy has grown used to, and while it does sting as she says, it is far from the torment he’s been inflicted prior. He stays still as she applies it, watching closely.

Her whole spiel is taken with him half-listening; although deep in his core, he does appreciate her tending to him. Without the lesson, he would have been much worse off than he is now.

You’re an odd one, he comments, flexing his toes until he stands to his feet. You always pick up ‘helpless’ strays? Regardless, the Wayfarer knows she’s right and if he gets a free meal out of it, well, he ain’t gonna argue. He gestures for her to lead the way.