A pair of fiery eyes followed the observant she-wolf. The scent of smoke and fire still tickled at his nose in her presence, reminding him of the burnt woods of Donnelaith. She had escaped the ill fate of fire – perhaps Deirdre and Emaleth had as well?
It wasn’t a thought he could dwell upon. If he did – if he thought his sisters were alive.. lost, even, he knew he would scour the earth for them. He would leave no stone unturned – but the likeliness of it seemed impossible, and he stilled his sudden and erratic breathing. Ravensblood Forest was still a fledgling pack, and he was needed by Durnehviir. Their consummation might have proved to be nothing more than a demand on one another’s feelings, but if she were pregnant.. No, he couldn’t leave to chase ghosts.
He stalked forward then – a wraith in the shadows. His form was stocky, but his steps were quiet like a predator. But his features were softer when he studied her openly, now making himself known. As he neared her, he vaguely wondered – was the smoke still on her fur, or did he simply imagine it because of its significance to him?
He chose not to mention it, and with a rumbling sigh, the beast gave a nod, beckoning the pale girl to follow him. “Come,” he murmured, his eyes drifting across the barks of the tree and the bits of foliage that did grace the forest floor, despite the season. They needed to address her cuts and wounds somehow, though it would have been better if they had a healer among their ranks.
Commander. He blinked at the title, his muzzle swinging back to study her with mild thought. “Just Constantine,” he requested, his tail sweeping through the air as he studied the state she was in. He was most worried for her lungs – the smoke that would have infiltrated them, and yet he did not know if it was even possible to offer her anything to assist with her breathing. But he could help her minor scrapes, her fatigue and even her stress.
Continuing on, the stocky wolf swerved as he neared one of the giant sequoias. His eyes drifted over the bark, and when he caught view of the leaking sap, he placed one paw up, pushing himself up higher to gingerly lick the bitter life of the tree on his tongue.
Dropping back down to four paws, he made his way back to her, his eyes studying her before motioning with his muzzle she should remain still. He swept his tongue across one of the more angry cuts then – attempting to be as gentle as he could, pressing the sap to her skin and hoping to form a shield of sorts, while trying to avoid rubbing it in to the burned areas. Ideally, he would have had access to honey – but he hadn’t seen a hive in their forest.
Stopping his ministrations, the Regal pulled back, studying his pale companion. “I’m sorry, I’m not a healer – my family was more talented with it than I. Does it hurt?”
He doesn't believe her words when they leave her lips -- the attempt to reassure doing the exact opposite. He says nothing now, continuing to try to patch the open sores of her skin with the bit of sap he did have. They would need a better supply of herbs and medicines -- he would need to fix that.
When he was done as best he could, the ember-eyed beast gave her a quiet farewell, his gaze lingering over her in concern before he turned, finding his way to the borders.