Wolf RPG

You're not dead?

His lips parted, taking a shallow breath of the hot, summer air, his mind a fog as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his lungs burned. Right, he was supposed to be breathing. Frank let his jaw hang open as he took very small breaths, unable to gulp down the air like he wanted to. It hurt too much, everything hurt too much. The dark creature's eyes closed, he slipped back into the darkness.

You should be dead.

His eyes opened again, the sun blinding him. He took another breath, the pain stabbing him in his chest. The fisher coughed, sending ripples of discomfort through his broken body. He felt more aware this time, patches of what had just happened coming back to him. Above him was a tree, old and tall and broken, a line of broken branches forming the path to which he'd fallen. Some twigs and leaves clung to his pelt, he could feel some of the splinters digging into his fur. He continued to take slow, shallow breaths as he managed to roll over. He brought a paw up to grab at a twig that had lodged itself into his shoulder, and pulled at it. He had plenty of twigs like that, and pulled at a few more before finally just laying down.

He had given up, simple as that. A few scratches, he could live with. But he'd seen his leg, twisted and gnarled and painful. He was better off dead.

deirdre had been moving along the coast, just between donnelaith and blackrock though nearer to her own forest. a loud noise had disrupted her from her intended activity for the day, and she paused on her journey toward the medicinal den she was in the midst of bringing together beneath the roots of an old, fallen cottonwood. the long-legged beauty was swift, and followed her ears, hearing the branches break as she moved, until the final thud that led her to a creature she had only ever witnessed from a distance. they had never had any need for her, yet, though she watched them with admiration. they were hardy creatures, graceful and light on their feet. yet this one seemed to be breathing strangely... and she could smell blood.

any normal predator would have preyed upon this opportunity, but deirdre rushed toward the broken thing with worry written into the lines of her face. she paused only momentarily before it, an urgent, whistling whine falling from her lips before she spoke. i am here to help, she informed, is that alright? and if the thing could not understand her, she would simply aid him and be mindful of his teeth.

Death didn't come as simple as a simple "Welp, I've given up all hope, my time's right now." Life wasn't easy like that, he supposed, and it seemed that he was deemed to just lay there and suffer. It felt weird, impatiently waiting for death, and worried that some bird would decide to peck out his eyes first. The fear got more and more real as he saw shadows of birds from above, he could hear him, almost laughing at him. Cats weren't supposed to fall out of trees, and yet there he was, laying on the ground like some sort of fool.

He closed his eyes and hoped that the birds would go away. Eventually they did, but only upon the entrance of something larger and possibly scarier. Frank didn't know much how wolves worked, they were strange creatures that made weird noises, and so Deirdre's whine might as well had been a snarl to him. He flinched away from the girl, his black eyes wide with fear as the large, threatening creature spoke. His jaw hung open, his heart thumping loudly in his ears.

Here to help, it said! He could have laughed if he wasn't so terrified. Frank rolled himself over, giving the wolf easy access to his belly and throat. Make it quick, make it quick, make it quick, please make it quick, the words echoed loudly in his mind.

Because what would a wolf be if it wasn't just coming up to make him into a tasty meal?

the thing rolled over, revealing its belly to her. this she understood as a sign of submission, a white flag. she also felt it was consent. deirdre loomed over the little thing, a giant in comparison that towered over the weasel. she sniffed, and her nose felt the heat that generated toward the injured body part. once she noted that, the injury was quite easy to detect; the hind leg was clearly hanging at so awkward an angle in so rigid a way that she knew it was broken.

she grit her teeth. i believe i can fix this. it needs time; it will hurt. i can attempt to splint it, the leg was quite different than a wing, but on him, it would not be too terribly different from the small birds she dealt with. i can take you to my herbal den; would you mind rolling over? i can carry you there, for she knew he could not walk.

Franklin trembled as he felt her hot breath on him. What would it do first? Rip his leg off, maybe. Or maybe the wolf would just pick him up and shake him until he couldn't see anymore. The seconds ticked by, each way he thought the wolf would finish him off worse than the last. Instead, though, she just... spoke. There was no more growling, or more pain (not more than there already was, anyways), and certainly no murderous head-shaking-with-him-in-her-mouth-ing. His eyes opened, the wheels in his mind clearly turning as he looked at the strange wolf. She was asking him to roll over? What was she, some kind of sick sadist??

Then everything sort of clicked, sort of. "Wait a minute," he looked her over, still waiting for her to do something murderer-y. "You're not here to, uh, you know," his tongue licked at his whiskers. "Do the whole, murderous dog head shaking thing?" Frank's ears flattened. "I mean, uh, if not, g-great! I don't really want to..." his voice trailed off as he imagined the girl violently shaking his helpless body. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and instead of going on, finally just rolled over. "If, uh, if you are, just, you know. Do it, okay?"

deirdre listened raptly to the other, able to depict the weasel noises and translate some of them to her own tongue as she had spoken with river-otters in need, and sometimes the common mink. his words were accented and spoken in a unique dialect to his breed, and deirdre was able to deduce what it was he asked of her. 

i will not kill you, came her own soft-spoken words, her ears flattening atop her head. you are under my protection until you are well again. even then, you may stay with me; that will be up to you, the young witch hummed. it seemed he had accepted her offer as he rolled over, and deirdre forewarned him: this may pain you, some, as we move. i fear you have broken a leg... she secured him in her mouth like a mother would her cub, but her teeth were inexpert at the task. at the very least she truly was gentle--she would not maim or wound him, though perhaps he would be uncomfortable for the journey. he was held firmly enough so that the broken area would not jostle aggressively as she carried him. deirdre turned and headed toward the territory of donnelaith, where she would care for him.

The weirdness of this whole situation didn't quite hit him until he no longer could feel the earth under his paws. He was still waiting for the whole murdery-shakey scene, but it didn't come. The large creature was firm, but also gentle, which didn't do much to soothe his frayed nerves. Could anyone blame him? On the verge of death, and here a wolf was offering its help to him. A wolf! He sort of wanted to laugh at the abnormality of the whole situation, or maybe cry because fate was being so cruel to him today. What had he done, but fall out of a tree? 

His face twisted up in pain as he hung limp and helpless from the wolf's jaws. He swiped at the air, his teeth firmly clenched together as he grunted and whined in pain. There was no comfort in their walk, it only made everything hurt more, and didn't exclude his pride. 

The duo walked in silence. Or rather, the wolf walked, and he felt his pride sink lower with each step. He felt no need to converse with the strange creature, and still felt that she was off to bring him home to some hungry pups. He'd be an easy meal, a learning tool. But there were no pups, no strange sounds. Just the kind wolf that might have been a little crazy, helping a fisher instead of eating it. 

When they had arrived to... well, wherever they were, he was happy to feel the ground beneath his paws again. He didn't move from that spot, as Frank was still tired, his mind still foggy, and with the wolf so close, still very much afraid. "Why?" he suddenly asked, "Are you, what, a crazy sorta wolf or something?"

the young girl placed him gently down, hoping she did not hurt him. she looked to her makeshift shelves--which were sturdy, old roots woven every which way within--and her eyes found the very herbs they had sought perched neatly in its designated place. she took raspberry leaves and brought them before the otter. she turned to grab some dandelion's as well that--when chewed--could also be painkillers. her ears perked as she heard his inquiry, and she tilted her head. i am not, she responded, and then gestured to the things she had brought him. raspberry leaves, and dandelion's. they are both painkillers. you will need them--for i will be investigating the severeness of your injury when you are numbed.

Frank's whiskers twitched when the woman said she wasn't crazy. He was about to argue with her, to tell her how stupid she was for not eating him. But, well, the purpose of this whole thing was to not get eaten, he supposed, so the fisher just bit down on his tongue and investigated what she'd brought him. She must have been crazy, keeping weird things like dandelions and raspberry leaves. What kind of wolf kept plants hanging around?  Granted, the only wolves he knew were the ones that saw him as a meal. Keeping his distance from the large canines seemed much wiser than getting to know them.

With about as much finesse as Franklin could muster, which was not very much at all, the fisher gobbled down the bitter tasting plants. They weren't so bad, he guessed, and if they stopped pain then he'd be golden. He sniffed around for scraps, licking at the bits of leaf that he'd left behind. "So do you often take it upon yourself to make your meal feel better before you eat it?" He was still convinced she was going to eat him, and no amount of pain killers was going to change his mind.

no, she responded in earnest, they are greeted by death before they are greeted by me, this was meant to be encouraging; she did not heal those she would kill. i would not waste what i have harvested on a being i would see an end to. no--you will be under my protection, now. she moved to lay for the time, knowing that it would be a while until the effects of the plants danced in his bloodstream. she made a note to collect more raspberry leaves, and had only plucked them at all so early because of the recent tasks she had been undertaking, consistently healing. 

she was thoughtful for a moment as she watched him. i understand your mistrust--it is wise, to have it. i know no others with my willingness to aid creatures such as yourself. you have broken a limb--you survive yet because i have yet to meet any in my life with such an ailment. i do wish to see if the bone will mend itself, and, after a beat, or if there is any way i can assist in such a feat. if not, and if you think yourself better off dead... she wanted to do right by this creature, and wondered what he might think.

in the end, the animal enabled her to do her work upon him. this she did readily, only pleased to help him! in due time, the two of them would discover if her work had aided him.