Wolf RPG

He had run for days — at least, it seemed like he had. In truth, the boy had simply awkwardly hobbled, stumbled, and limped his way south in a feverish daze. His left foreleg, or what remained of it, had hung limply at his side as he had travelled, the blood that had left a trail now run dry. The wound was black and infected; bits of meat and flesh hung from the stump that remained. Atreyu had lost count of the amount of times he had fell onto his face, somehow forgetting that he was now sans half a leg as he shambled along. It didn't hurt, though, strangely. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he had no idea. He wasn't a healer.

Eventually, he had ended up at a mountain.

It was here the Gamma found his body refused to go any further. His muscles ached in protest, the jagged gash on his side from the bear's claws searing in pain with each movement, his fur even more dishevelled and dirty than ever. His foreleg remained suspiciously numb and, every so often, the boy would lick at it tentatively, snapping at any flies that came too close while he rested. An oddly persistent crow had followed him, too, and Atreyu eyed it, releasing a feral growl whenever it made to perch near him. What it wanted, he did not know.

A caw from the blasted crow somewhere outside roused the wolf awake, ears snapping forward as he opened his eyes groggily. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was again, gazing in curiousity around the small nook he had found in the mountain's face, one dug in deep where it was cool and dark. It smelt even worse than it looked — covered in blood and bits of dirty, pale fur, bugs huddling near the corners, the bones of some small creature scattered near the back. Light filtered in from the opening just around the corner, and Atreyu made for it slowly, blinking as he emerged into the early morning sunlight.

Harlyn had made a commitment to Mordecai, that she would search beyond their borders for their missing packmates as soon as she was healthy again.  Or rather, packmate - singular - now that Dante had returned.  She hadn't been to visit with him yet since his return, but she knew from Mordecai that he had arrived with no word of the other girl, Osprey.  Admittedly, it was the other packmate that she cared very little for whether or not she returned, but again her loyalty to the Ostrega drove her actions and sent her far from home.


It was the scent of blood that caught her attention as she walked along the shaded mountainside.  It stung her nostrils quite unexpectedly, but immediately she began to follow the trail that had been left.  Eventually, the druid found her way to the source of the metallic scent - a young wolf stepping into the sunlight with pale fur stained with gore she could only assume was his own.  Harlyn swallowed hard, fear gripping her at the sorry sight of him.  With a shake of her coat, she brushed her trepidation away and approached him with concern upon her features and neutrality in her pose.

"By the gods, young one..." Harlyn said breathlessly as she approached, her gaze passing along every maimed inch of him.  She bit her tongue to allow him a moment to acclimate to her presence, praying that the spirits would bar his path were he to try and run from her before she could help him.

He had no idea how many sunrises he had seen from this spot on the mountain now — too many, perhaps. The thought of returning to the Bay, however, caused the boy's ears to flick back and he shook out the fur on his neck, unwilling to face the wolves there right now. He worried for them, though, for Jorunn and Floki, Charon and Thistle. He would go back, eventually. Maybe. If infection didn't get him first. Or that crow. Or...

Atreyu's ears pricked back at the sound of a voice. A voice! He had not heard one in so long. His gaze shifted as he tried to locate the source, settling on the form of a lithe, dark female a few seconds later. She looked concerned, and while her words were not hostile, the boy retreated a few steps back into the nook in the mountain, startled by her sudden appearance. How long had she been there?

Defensively, he let out a low warning growl, his front end still in the sunlight as he stared at the fiery-eyed woman. Though, he quickly fell silent, nose wiggling as he took in her scent. She smelt like deer and other places. It was almost tantalising to the boy, having grown so used to the stench of old blood. Despite his wariness, he was curious.

The boy reacted as Harlyn suspected he would.  She held still as he fixed her with a nervous stare and a growl, posturing herself in a way to communicate that she wasn't a threat, but not without authority.  She knew quite well how to handle herself around her own kind.  Even an injured wolf would respond to an alpha, and though Harlyn was not one yet, she had the strength running through her veins.

Slowly, she began to creep forward just a few inches before she again stopped, her gaze upon him.  She said nothing verbally, but used her body language to communicate for her only one simple fact for the moment - you're safe.

He continued staring as she stood frozen, before ever so slowly taking a few steps towards him. Atreyu shrunk back even further, crouching low to the ground with his ears pinned back like pup would when they were being scolded. While he didn't fear the stranger too much, he felt vulnerable and protective of his injured leg. The woman's vivid eyes were soft, though, and she didn't seem to have any threatening motives.

A few more silent minutes passed before the boy eventually stirred, moving from his cowering position and out into the open again. He stood as tall as he could, grimacing as his stiff muscles cramped in protest. A bit further away from the stench coming from the alcove, he could make out her scent better now. Wherever she was from, it smelt familiar, but he wasn't sure where. He decided to trust her, though, if only because she was the first friendly — and only, for that matter — face he had seen in a while.

Giving his tail a half-hearted wag, he gave a soft, hesitant, "hello."

It took a while, but eventually the young wolf came around.  Harlyn felt relief sweep across her, but only momentarily for now the real work began.  The stench of blood was so strong it was almost overwhelming, but she smiled anyway at the sound of his voice as he uttered a solitary word of greeting to her.

"Hi, I'm Harlyn," she said quietly, "Have you been hurt?  I'm a medic.  I can help you."  Her hope that the blood belonged to someone else was very slim, but she asked nonetheless just in case.  She still hadn't spotted his missing foreleg as otherwise she would have known not to harbor any of that hope at all.

He almost let out a laugh at her question, instead only letting a weak smile drift across his face before he glanced behind him. Blood and grime covered the walls of the small nook he had taken up residence in, it would be hard to deny being injured — maimed even. As she announced she was a medic, she gained Atreyu's attention once again and he turned towards her with ears perked forward and interest gleaming in his gaze.

What an amazing stroke of luck, to be found by a healer of all strangers! While his leg was beyond all repair (save for tearing the rest of the limb clean off), it could at the very least be cleaned up a bit; the smell almost made his eyes water when cooped up in the temporary shelter. It almost made hunting anything larger than a beetle with a sense of smell downright impossible. Another smile flit across his features and the boy emerged fully out of the crevice, stumbling as he gained his balance, still getting used to three legs instead of four.

He seemed ruefully amused by her question, and Harlyn's heart sank, though only slightly.  Her hope had been slim that the blood was not his, but she cast all doubt aside now and steeled her heart against whatever came next.  When it came to healing, there was no room to be emotional.  Pity would weaken her and make her cringe away from what needed to be done.  You could not set a broken bone while your heart bled for the pain you put your patient through doing so.  You could not...

Harlyn's jaw dropped slightly as the young wolf emerged from his makeshift den, for all the mental preparation in the world was not enough to prevent her reaction to the sight of him hobbling on three legs - the fourth clearly torn off from some horrific incident.  She composed herself quickly enough and closed the distance between them, immediately setting her nose to work sniffing at his wound to search for the scent of poison or infection in his blood.  She fought the urge to cringe at the scent - he had gone for too long with his arm (or... lack-of-arm) unattended.  The scent was foul, but there was hope still.

"Your wound needs cleaning," Harlyn said softly, sucking in a deep breath and wishing like crazy that she was not alone in tending to him, "You won't like this, but don't move."  Quickly, she went to work running her tongue along the stub, wiping away all of the dried blood and dirt while wracking her brain to first decide what the best remedy for this situation would be, and then to remember where she could find what she needed quickly.

Her surprise only went partly noticed by Atreyu, who still hadn't regained quite enough awareness to pick up every movement made by the woman — or the world in general, really. He only focused on the scent that emanated from his stub of a leg, along with the sensations that passed through it. Sometimes it burned, sometimes it ached, most of the time, though, it was simply numb. He didn't mind when it was like that. Whether it was a good or bad indicator was lost to him.

It began to sting with renewed pain as the healer suddenly started forward and began to clean his wound. He had only caught her last command of don't move and obeyed willingly, even as his hackles and lips raised as she aggravated his injury. She had licked away the clotted blood (he heeded no attention to what it might taste like for the poor stranger), exposing fresh skin to the air. Atreyu fell into a sit with his foreleg extended as he complained quietly through soft growls. He was in no position to refuse her help.

Being a wolf with many years of healing under her belt (or maybe I should say pelt?), the taste of the boy's injury didn't phase her at all.  She thought only of what needed to be done, and that meant re-opening the wound as cleaning away the dirty, infected blood was part of it.

The druid spent a few minutes cleaning the stub where his arm once was before pulling away.  The blood tasted clean now, which was a relief.  Giving the boy a serious look, Harlyn instructed him on what to do next.  "Keep the wound clean like I did," she said as she pulled herself up onto all fours, "I'm going to find some medicine to put on it to help it heal.  I'll find you something for the pain as well, just hold tight for a little while, alright?"

Harlyn waited only long enough to see his acceptance before she slipped away to hunt for the plants she needed.

The pain started to throb as she cleaned, and with each lick Atreyu came closer and closer to lunging forward and showing his disdain with a hard bite to her muzzle. There was no personal vendetta against her, of course, his leg just seared more and more and he wanted nothing more than for it to end. He was relieved when she finally pulled away, quickly drawing his foreleg close to his chest protectively and looking down to it. While still blackened with dried blood (that would take a week's soaking in the hot springs to clean off), the wound was much cleaner now than it had ever been. Fresh blood seeped to the surface, pooling and spilling with renewed vengeance.

He looked up and spared the healer a cursory glance before she got to her feet, only to look up again quickly after she spoke. For a moment, he thought she was leaving and he was torn between being relieved and terrified. However, she only noted that she needed to find medicine. He nodded, not needing to be told twice. Almost instinctively, the boy started to nibble delicately at his leg, awkwardly letting himself fall onto his side, propped up by his right foreleg. The movement blurred his vision, and Atreyu couldn't help but release a whine, licking feverishly at the reopened wound, trying to distract himself from the pain.

Fortunately, Harlyn was quite adept at both naturalism and healing.  Knowing plants and nature as she did, she knew right where to try looking for the herbs she needed.  She sprinted across the mountainside, her every sense put to work hunting the landscape.  She spotted what she wanted eventually and set to work hastily digging up the roots she wanted, then tearing off again to find leaves of another plant and then a bit of another.

Soon enough, Harlyn was back, dancing up the cliffs and weaving her way along until she had returned to the side of her patient.  She approached steadily without hesitation, though she did slow a bit so as to not take him by surprise.  The healer dropped her bundle of herbs upon the cold ground and sorted through it, picking some up between her teeth.  She chewed up what she'd collected into a sort of paste, which she quickly set to work spreading across his stub of a foreleg once he'd acknowledged her return.  The paste stained his fur with a tinge of green that was nearly unnoticeable under the dark brown of dried blood.

Harlyn stepped back finally to give the boy room to breathe, turning back to her pile.  She nosed through what was left and grabbed another bundle of leaves, which she picked up and set down before him.  "For the pain," the druid told him with a nod of encouragement.  She had no doubt he was certainly in need of it at that point, "It'll help you sleep also.  I can fetch you food if you need it."

Her absence, while short, felt like a lifetime to Atreyu. He was left tending to his injury, his motions of cleaning it becoming repetitive as he fell into a sort of trance. It still burned and ached but at least this soothed it, if only by a little. Harlyn's return came as a surprise, and the boy's head whipped up as he noted the scent of herbs — enticing and fresh, compared to the dank smell of the cavern he had been holed up in.

He watched as she stirred up some of the plants into a mixture, and drew back with a low, frightened growl as she stepped forward, only to then allow her to spread the paste onto his leg. He wasn't sure what it was for, but he trusted the girl enough. If this took the smell and pain away, he would take it.

Once done, the healer stepped back, and Atreyu stared at the mess that was once his forepaw. The green of the herbs mixed with the bright red of his blood, creating strange highlights of colour against the darker, matted fur on his leg. He nosed at it gently, giving it a tentative lick before quickly deciding that no, he was not meant to eat this particular mixture.

He looked up to the bundle that he was meant to eat that Harlyn placed before him, quickly leaning forward and dragging it towards him with his jaws. They tasted exactly how they looked — which was foul, to him — but he would obey the healer nonetheless. She hadn't done anything untrustworthy so far. Her mention of food caused his ears to prick and, although he wasn't hungry yet, the boy nodded eagerly. "Thank you," he said weakly.

He was a good patient.  Though she knew well that he was in terrible pain from what she was doing, he did not fight her.  He looked like he wanted to.  He actually looked like he wanted to snap his jaws around her muzzle and pitch her off the mountain for a brief second there.  He did nothing though, instead obeying without question and finally giving his greatful acceptance when she offered to find him food.

Harlyn nodded and stood to go, but paused for a moment.  She hesitated as though uncertain of whether or not to leave him again, but eventually she leaned down and touched her nose comfortingly against his temple.  "I'll be back as soon as I can," she reassured him, "Try and sleep - Rest is the best medicine for you now."

With that, Harlyn sped off again.  It would be even longer before she returned to him as hunting prey was far more difficult than hunting for plants.  But soon enough, she would be back to spend the rest of her night and much of the next day looking over him until she deemed that he was out of danger and would be safe on his own.  Then she'd have to return to her own pack which, though did not truly have her heart, still had her loyalty.

Harlyn's kindness would be remembered, despite his current, barely-functioning state. Why she decided to help him, Atreyu had no idea. She could be a lone wolf — a selfless, wandering healer? Or was she out looking for potential members for whatever pack she was a part of? He didn't think he would make the greatest of candidates. Whatever her reason, Atreyu was glad she of all wolves had came across him. The vast majority would likely look the other way, maybe give him a sympathetic look, or even offer to put him out of his misery.

The touch of her muzzle to his head caused his tail to wag ever so slightly, blood rushing to his cheeks. He nodded once again to her words and watched her go, shifting to settle into a more comfortable position. Sleep sounded good. His leg throbbed, though, the herbs having yet to kick in, so Atreyu tenderly draped his head upon it with a soft whine as if that would ease it some. When Harlyn returned, he would be asleep.

The next morning, he was surprised she was still there, though accepted her previously caught meal eagerly. They exchanged few words, and then she left. Atreyu was sure to commit the girl's face and scent to memory, not wanting to forget the stranger's actions.