Wolf RPG

Time was not but a pained and dizzied blur. He did not know, even, how he had managed to lift himself to his feet to walk. His wounds were innumerable, carved into his hide everywhere, long and short, shallow and deep. The cat had tore his cheeks, his shoulders, his sides and his flanks, his coat so badly stained that he no longer looked the part of a white wolf, but instead was the portrait of red and white roan. It was only by some inconceivable mercy, some questionable luck, that none of the wounds on their own had been fatally struck; at least, not immediately so.

He slumped down against the trunk of a thick tree just inside the marked borders, his blue tongue pinched between his teeth just barely showing, and his eyes shut. His head hung and swayed as if suspended by a rope about his neck. His consciousness was fragile, his mind not but a confusing stew of emotion and images that caused his legs to jerk and his muzzle to twitch into fleeting snarls.

He may not have been dead, but he was not far from it.

In spite of the snowfall that had cast a palpable blanket of silence over the Hollow, Mordecai felt a certain unease in its midst. It was hardly from his own experiences, but rather of what lied on the horizon ahead. It was more than clear to him now that Harlyn's suspicions were correct and for him that merely meant that his life was about to take a direction he was not at all familiar with. It wasn't an unpleasant turn of events, but the timing could have been better. They were doing well in spite of all other things and the bitter cold would only last so long.

And for a change of pace for once, he felt himself willing to tackle the borders that others had so laboriously tended to. He was far from one hundred percent himself, in a way still adjusting to the minor and major changes that had come to him. His shoulder no longer gave him the troubles that he had fretted over and the loss of the eye was now proving to be the more tedious of things to adjust to. It left him wary, not being able to retain the same depth and field of view he had always had and even now in the forestry alone he strained his hearing to pick up on anything out of the ordinary that could have so easily approached what he felt was a useless side.

Of course, he hadn't needed to strain to hear the pained call of Ilya over the silence. No, that had come loud and clear and gave him purpose to propel himself towards the borders he had so readily sought. With the raided cache and their accumulating misfortune at hand, he did not hesitate to draw near to her location swiftly. Though his approach slowed long before he spied out her dark pelt against the snowy backdrop, he was not quiet as he closed in. By then the smell of blood had flooded his senses and just beyond the graze of her own body he recognized Luke. No hesitation lingered as he summoned @Harlyn to come forth, his own solitary gaze shifting to linger on the tarnished coat of his companion with anxious concern.

He whined, so evidently pained by the sight that the only gesture of hesitation he carried was the uncertainty whether or not to round in on him. He was in bad shape no doubt, the wounds he bore a mess but not quite as fresh as his own. It had been of wonder to him where Luke had gone, but he had not expected him to come back in such a state as the one that left him presently disheveled at their doorstep. Instead he forfeit drawing near to bring his gaze to level out and skim through their surroundings — would the cougar have followed him back? The snow would not hide the feline this time he felt, but he found nothing that suggested the sort either.

He was not yet unconscious, but it took him several minutes to register the presence of his black companion. Even her howl did not pierce the haze of his weakness, and before that the touch of her tongue upon one of the wounds in his shoulder only stirred him to wince involuntarily.

He woke briefly just after the arrival of his alpha male, but as his eyes blinked opened and fell upon his packmates, they did not hold the warm recognition one would respect. No, they narrowed, and were hardened like the fine tempered edge of a steel blade. His muzzle contorted into a savage snarl, lips pulled back to reveal fully the white shine of his teeth, and his blue tongue fearfully, frantically, pressed out between his incisors. Their ears he did not greet with a welcoming voice, but rather the deep reverberations of his loud growling. His tail, so commonly animated in a dancing wag, was stiff and bristled, and the furs along his nape and spine lifted like quills.

Had she realized that Luke was gone?  As Harlyn dashed through the woods towards the panicked calls, she couldn't be certain she really had.  Certainly she had been avoiding him after their last encounter.  It was clearly too dangerous for them to be together while she was in the thralls of her heat, and so she'd made a mental note to steer her paths away from any that Luke had traced through the territory.  She should have realized that it had been inexplicably easier than it ought to have been were the beta actually around, but she would have had to allow her thoughts to be on him in the first place to notice, and it was there also in her mind that she had refused his presence to the best of her ability.

As Harlyn came upon the scene, none of it mattered.  Her heart crept up into her throat at the sight.  It was too hauntingly familiar and a sense of dread threatened to engross her.  But before it swallowed her whole, the healer sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, and pushed the dark feelings away with the mental calmness that she had perfected after so many years of practicing her skill.  She barely spared Mordecai or Ilya a glance as she approached, her posture rising dominantly as she stared at her bristling patient.  Fear might drive him to panic and attack those he would never have raised a claw against, and so Harlyn rose to remind him that no matter how much pain he was in, she was still in charge.

The druid gazed at him without threat, meeting his eyes calmly to communicate with her body what she knew she would fail to communicate with her words given the primal state her beta was in.  A low growl echoed from her chest briefly, but the flash of a backwards glance towards the other two signaled that it was for them - an order for them both to step back.  A little submission from them certainly wouldn't hurt either.  She was loathe to demand it of her co-alpha to whom she usually herself would submit, but they were equals at the core.  A little give and take on either side was part of the deal, which Harlyn hoped her mate would remember in such a tense moment.

The flash of acknowledgement to Mordecai and Ilya was brief, and the next instant she had quieted and taken one more step towards Luke.  She would hold then with her gaze steady and calm until he settled down enough for her to tend to him.

Luke was decidedly less than pleased to see them and Mordecai could hardly fault him for it. If anything, his wounded aggression towards their presence was a positive — he still had enough of a fight him in to tell them off in any assortment of languages. But it was Harlyn's arrival that tore him from his surveying, the flurry of her footfalls prompting him to momentarily turn his back to the outside world as she broke from cover to join them. If anything it seemed that she read into Luke's behavior more than any of them, that message loud as clear as she told them to back off. Mordecai, feeling that he had been wise not to crowd Luke to begin with could not help but respond defiantly for an instant, curling a lip in her general direction. But he relented in the display and cleared from the area further, a chuff calling Ilya to do the same.

He settled, executing a turn to draw Harlyn and Luke back into his line of sight in spite of the timberline that could have easily swallowed them. He wouldn't leave, not at all certain that their second in command would be willing to even let her near. And of course there was still the nagging edge of whether or not the cougar would linger beyond their line of sight, lurking somewhere in the snow flushed scenery. It rested on his mind as heavily as what would transpire next, all of which he was hard-pressed to imagine in the first place.

He did not relax. He was whale-eyed and wild and continued to bristle, even as his closest companion arrived. He met her approach with a snap of his jaws, but it was done in a feint, a warning, his teeth clacking together in the air intentionally before his tongue flicked out fearfully between them. There was something in his stature, her movements, that appealed to his instinct. Instinct that normally was considerably dormant, but had risen with the trauma. This was the reason he did not strike.

He shrank back, shoving himself tighter to the tree as she moved closer, his toes splayed for the greatest purchase on the ground. In fact, he may have fled altogether had the tree not been there, such was his panicked mind. He did not want to be touched. He did not want anyone so near. He turned his cheek to her, angling his muzzle away, but still staring sidelong at her. His flight instinct was immense, but yet, he remained, tree or no tree, and she would be able to come nearer, be able to tend him.

Harlyn noticed nothing of Mordecai's hesitation.  All she sensed was that he and Ilya retreated further, allowing her to focus her attention even more fully on Luke.  The white wolf snarled and licked his lips anxiously, but she did not move.  Her eyes were trained calmly upon him and eventually, her patience paid off.

She stepped forward when he turned away from her - a sign to her that it was safe now to approach.  His wounds screamed for her attention, but she did not reach for them yet.  Instead, she stood over him and leaned tentatively towards him, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in his scent, searching for whatever information her nose could tell her of his condition.  Her tongue flicked out tentatively upon his alabaster fur, clearing away some of the blood that tainted it far enough away from his wounds that it wouldn't hurt him.  She also was trying to ease him into her closeness; testing the waters to make sure that he would remain still before she moved in to begin cleaning his wounds.

As Ilya came to join him, her lower posture slowly divided his attention from the unfolding scene. The palpable distress of his subordinate seemed to settle itself, but it did not stop him from reaching out to offer her a reassuring nudge. It seemed the thing to do, though he could not help but feel it was a hollow gesture. It wouldn't magically heal Luke, no, but they had to stay strong as well. For as idyllic as things had been in their home, there were bound to be a few bumps in the road along whatever journey their lives would take them.

He spared a glance back to where Luke and Harlyn were; the slight shift of the blue-nosed wolf grabbed his attention swiftly. But in the same stroke, Harlyn with there to reach out for him, trying to look after him much in the way she had Mordecai some time ago. He hadn't been in much of a state to seem combative, but then again he and Luke were both two distinctly different wolves. But it did not stop his concerns for whether or not his friend would feel cornered, whether or not his handle on reality was entirely there.

He was so far away from where he had been. Once a wolf that craved touch and physical closeness as though he was sustained by it and not meat and water, Luke now shied from contact. He flinched when his companion touched him, but he did not retaliate. Fatigue was tempering his frightful rage, and soon it made his head sway and his eyelids start to fall. He could not fight it off; somewhere in the recesses of his mind, his heart, he knew he was safe and among friends, no matter what wild instinct thought. Exhaustion claimed him, and he went limp at Harlyn's feet.

Harlyn wasted no time after Luke went limp to get to work.  She swept gently but purposefully down upon him, positioning herself so that she could get at his wounds to clean them comfortably.  Already she had tasks in mind for the other wolves whom she had not forgotten were there in spite of how little attention she'd paid them.  Ilya, a budding naturalist, Harlyn would trust to pick out the plants she needed.  Mordecai who knew the little alcove just outside of their den where she kept some of her medicines would be her guide.

"Ilya, I need goldenrod and marigold.  I have some in my stores near the den," Harlyn said hurriedly without looking at she or Mordecai, "Mordecai, take her, and hurry back.  Goldenrod has long, thin, pointed leaves and pale blooms.  Marigold is the same color flower, but larger with tall, thin stalks and small leaves.  Grab whatever you can if you're unsure, I'll sort through and take what I need."  With that, she began to run her tongue across his wounds, cleaning away dirt and blood while her senses searched for signs of infection she prayed she would be unable to find.

Where Ilya showed restraint not to move forward, Mordecai did. And it would have seemed it was the move to back, for Harlyn had sprung into action. His steps were halted by her call to the dark-haired gamma but he did not idle long as he was lumped in with her instructions. He rounded back towards their smaller companion, a hushed woof to action coming with his forward motion. And then he was off, headed for the alcove he knew she was after and presumably with Ilya in tow.

They had descended upon the den in good time, though he hardly knew what they were supposed to be after. Then again, that was where Ilya was on point, rooting around quickly and pulling from the various pockets and niches that Harlyn had tucked away the plants. They were dried and withered, not at all unlike how he supposed he would have recalled what she had brought to him some weeks ago. But he neither knew a marigold from a piece of flowering moss and what Ilya brought together only looked a mess to him.

Nevertheless, when prompted by her to gather what she could not carry, he did so willingly. Once again he was met with the bitter taste in his mouth that he most certainly did recall and winced; of course he would end up with the bitter and dry things, unknowing that possibly neither tasted at all that great.

And so, he led the way back. This time it was not with the same pace that he had carried to get them there, if only for the fact that he worried over somehow dropping contents along the way. He would not waste what was left of Harlyn's stock, knowing well enough that there was plenty of time left remaining before such would grow wild through the countryside.

Hopeful as he spotted the grey tones of his mate's coat through the dense wood, Mordecai's pace picked up briskly in the home stretch. It was not a soundless approach between his footfalls and those of Ilya's, but he announced their return all the same with a hearty woof to draw her attention.

Harlyn worked as quickly and gently as she could cleaning his wounds.  She didn't want to hurt him and stir him to awaken, not when he was so volatile.  And she needed to have the wounds clean before Mordecai and Ilya returned so that she could administer the medicine promptly.  She knew the trip to their den and back wouldn't take too long, and so she wasted as little time as she could.  

It seemed to her like no time had passed at all when the pair returned.  In spite of her paranoia, she was ready for them when the arrived.  She whined urgently to Ilya, wordlessly asking that she bring her the plants quickly so that she could get to work.  She was pretty confident that the gamma would have managed to grab what she had requested without too much issue.  Plants did tend to look somewhat alike, but she knew (or thought) that Ilya had had some experience with herbs already that would have helped her.

As Harlyn urged Ilya forth, Mordecai followed in the wake to place down what he had carried. The action itself was swift, leaving him to back off from the proximity to survey their surroundings. If the cougar lingered, he was surprised that it had not made an entrance. A quick test of the air did not bring forth the pungent scent of the feline, but the metallic smell of blood was not so easily flushed from his nares either.

So he lingered at attention, a silent sentinel while the healers set to work.

Harlyn went to work as soon as the herbs were placed within her reach.  Her faith in Ilya had been well-placed.  Likely it would have been a good opportunity for her to do some teaching, but she was far too concerned for her friend to begin narrating and explaining what she was doing to the aspiring naturalist.  She focused instead of mixing and smoothing the salve over the angry wounds, her ears ever trained upon the beat of his heart and the passing of breath from his nostrils.  Both were faint sounds, but they were there.  Harlyn would only worry for them once the medicine was applied - sooner if they ceased altogether.

Once her work was complete, Harlyn settled back at his side.  She pressed herself close to keep him warm, but otherwise she did not touch him.  Her eyes were focused upon his face as he slept, her thoughts a blur of worry and prayer.  She was aware of Mordecai and Ilya nearby and was comforted by their presence, but she didn't speak to them just yet.  Soon she would.  She would thank them and let them know what it was she had done and what she thought of his condition.  She'd tell them what they would do next - move him to shelter, reapply his medicine, hunt down something for him to eat when he awakens.  All of that would be said in time.  But for now, Harlyn was silent, just watching him breathe.