Swiftcurrent Creek If you're broken, I will mend you.

It was on rare occasions that Paarthurnax could spend any quality one-on-one time with an individual pup. It seemed that as soon as she started interacting with Julius, Relonikiv would begin chewing on her. Or as soon as she plucked Durnehviir from the group to be groomed, Trajan would be screaming his protest at not having attention before anyone else. She loved them fiercely, reach and every one of them, but her children were indeed a handful at times.

She'd noticed some very subtle changes in her daughter over the past week or so. Durnehviir had slept almost constantly, waking only to nurse. Where one she'd been incredibly vocal, the only female cub seemed awfully quiet over the past few days. She'd been eating and developing as normal so to many the whole sleep-and-eat routine would be considered normal, but Paar had been unable to shake the concern that there may be something underlying.

The two-toned medic blinked down at her brood, and reached over to place her snout among them. She breathed deep that warm, puppy scent and stole a kiss at Trajan's sterling brow before affectionately bumping Julius with her nose. To an upside-down snoozing Relonikiv she exhaled softly across his pink belly, then moved too reach for her mottled daughter.

But Durnehviir was not with her brothers. Instead she'd taken residence farther away, directly at her mother's forepaws. She lay curled in a tight little ball and, as Paarthurnax manoeuvred to pull the rogue child closer, she realised that Durnehviir was trembling all over.

Fear gripped her and, delicately placing a paw at her little girl's side, she scooped the pup closer to her chest. Paarthurnax dipped her muzzle to press her lips to Durnehviir's cheek and, while she expected the cub to be cold to her touch, she found her to be uncomfortably warm.

Fever had taken hold of the pup that had seemed perfectly well only a few hours ago and, alone, Paarthurnax hesitated. She would have to leave her entire brood to raid her supplies in search of something suitable to ease the infant's discomfort. Raising to her paws and bundling breeding around the brood to keep them from catching a chill, the now frantic patent slipped from her den and into the nearby herb cache to begin rifling through her stores.

She did not know why she suddenly felt so uneasy, but Durnehviir did not wish to be near her siblings. When she was nestled with them, there was warmth and support. Since before even opening her eyes, she'd bonded with her three very smelly, silly brothers. Although she was too young to understand relationships, friendship and rivalry, she knew somehow that she was supposed to feel emotionally attached to the creatures that had shared a womb with her. They annoyed her on a daily basis, but it was on rare occasions that she was apart from them.

That evening, heat was what roused Durnehviir from her sleep. Groggy, she blinked her stormy blue eyes open and found her vision to be blurry as she lifted her head and looked down at her litter-mates. With a little paw she reached up to wipe her eyes and cheeks, then blinked again, but found that the sight before her was no less bleary. Too tired to really care, the tiny Frostfur groaned and flopped over into a more comfortable place, unfurling herself from Julius, and seeking space by herself.

Durnehviir dozed, but was woken again when Relonikiv scooted closer to her. She woke to find him sobering on her shoulder, and dragged herself even further away. Thankfully, nobody followed. She moved along the length of her mother's foreleg and wound up at her left paw, where she curled up with the intention of finding sleep once more.

However, slumber did not sweep her away. Instead, nausea gripped her tiny stomach and, uncomfortable, she mewled inwardly. She felt as though her skin was on fire, so intense was the heat that radiated from her, and as she sensed her mother rouse nearby and move to inspect her, she cried out the moment she was touched.

Soon the adult was gone, and Durnehviir continued to tremble as she struggled to maintain her rising body temperature.

She shoved aside the dried grasses she'd used as insulation to protect the fragile herbs she'd stored in the little hollow by her den from Winter's frosts, and looked between them as she frantically sought something to help her baby. Butterfly weed? No, that was for coughs and excess mucus. Blue vervain? No, that was something she'd stored for Bazi when they discussed pregnancy, to promote lactation. Pricklypear? Might come in handy, but it was too soon to tell what sort of infection Durnehviir had contracted, if any.

Where were the burdock root!? The ironweed? Desperate, Paarthurnax yanked things out of the way until, at last, she sourced the medicines she'd dried out that could help in aiding the reduction of fever. She plucked at the roots, tore off a sizable piece, and promptly exited the cache to slink into the hollow where her children waited.

She made to glance quickly at her sons, who remained sound asleep in a warm, content little bundle at the rear of the den. They were snug and, considering she had not noticed any changes in their routines or personalities. She made a mental note of this and set herself down beside her shivering daughter, and tucked the pup close to her chest as she began to grind the lump of burdock root, working at it with her jaws until it was a thick paste.

It did not taste particularly pleasant, but was not bitter or sour. When she was done chewing it, the two-toned Frostfur deposited it onto the ground at her elbow, then manouvered the infant so that she could see her little features. Fearfully she examined Durnehviir, her copper eyes bright with concern as she fought hard to regard her little girl with the same patience, calm and tenderness as she would any other patient.

But how could she? This was her daughter! And if she didn't act fact, the fever would not dissipate on its own.

She licked at the paste she'd created, held it on her tongue, then dipped her snout to lift the pup's chin so that it was propped atop her alabaster forelimb. With her tiny mouth already open as she sucked in cool air - her body's way of trying to lower its temperature - it was easy to deliver a portion of the medicine, and so with a sweep of her tongue she did just that.

Only minutes passed, but to one so small and fragile, they felt like light years. Durnehviir began to pant, her tiny tongue lolling over her chin and depositing saliva until their was a pool of drool beneath her head. Often she ceased these heaving breaths to swallow - heat caused her mouth to salivate excessively. She whimpered pitifully, and wriggled in her place in attempt to try and attract her mother's attention.

When at last she returned, Durnehviir blinked up at her with stormy blue eyes filled with pleading, but the crimson wolfess did not meet her gaze. Instead, Paarthurnax tucked her daughter close and the child responded by burying her little snout among the feathery white fur of the adult's chest.

She squeezed her eyes shut and continued to shake, her mouth seeking and failing to find a teat that she wished for comfort. Instead, her dam shifted and nudged her away just enough to gain access to her tongue, which was once again dangling over her lower jaw as she fought to lower her temperature. Much to her surprise, a cool paste was forced into her mouth and, immediately, she began to work at it with her tongue. Its texture was disgusting and the taste repulsive, and so she promptly spat it back out onto her mother's forelimb.

The girl objected, responding not by swallowing her medicine but promptly rid it from her little mouth by spotting it over Paarthurnax' alabaster forelimb. Frustration bubbled within the mother's breast - why can't you see that I'm trying to help you!? - as her emotion began to brim. Tears welled in her eyes; the idea of forever losing someone she cherished so dearly was foreign to her. Paar had bid solemn farewells with many: her first lover, her dear mentor, Viinturuth, her parents... but with those came the possibility of seeing them again.

Durnehviir, however, was so small, and Paarthurnax was unwilling to let Death take one of her babies from her. She would stand firmly between her pups and danger, always, for as long as her heart beat.

Determined, the two-toned healer tried again. She licked at the paste she'd created, held it on her tongue, and attempted to place it onto the roof of Durnehviir's mouth with one quick swipe. She then proceeded to fuss over the infant, pressing her nose soothingly to her mottled forehead and kissed her tiny cinnamon ears, trying to distract her from the foul taste with comfort.