There was a pool of blood at his feet. It was his own, hacked up from his lungs in a coughing fit. The knight panted, his breath raspy from the wounds inside him. The rib was still irritating the organ inside, and he wasn't sure if it was healing properly either. He would have to ask the Lady Thistle Cloud to see if it was in place later. For now, he needed to catch his breath....
IN...OUT...IN...OUT...IN.........OUT.....
Mordred gasped for breath, his panting slowing as his body relaxed. The storm gray wolf licked his lips with distaste, tasting bloodied spittle on his lips. He was fine now. The Dread Knight stretched, releasing the tension in his body. He had endured worst than this. It wasn't even that bad. He had once been left in a battlefield, trapped under dead, rotting bodies, the rot nearly giving him gangrene. He had been bitten by a venomous snake before. He was fine.
Nerian marked the boarder's over again on her way through there were no new wolves this day which was good because Nerian didn't quite understand the nuances of who was allowed to stay and whom had to be kicked out. She left that to Ragnar and now Thistle Cloud.
As she moved deeper into the territory she smelled blood, but it wasn't prey blood that smelled, it was something different. Nerian adjusted her amble and sped up coming across a wolf she knew as her pack member but nothing else.
What's wrong? how did this happen? she makes a swift circle around his body not seeing anywhere obvious the blood could come from. She frowned Is that your blood? She was a very capable healer however bleeding from the lungs was a very very bad sign. she hoped, no, she prayed, that was not what this was. But the placement of blood and the posture of the wolf make her worry all the more.
He wheezed, not feeling the familiar wheeze that accompanied his breath. A good sign, but the expulsion of blood was worrying. His eyes flickered to the light gray female who looked at him with a worried expression on her face. He breathed in her scent gently, she smelled of Ragnar, the Jarl. Deeply of him, similar to how Thistle Cloud smelled. Was she the Jarl's mate as well?
He coughed, but luckily this time there was no blood flying out of his mouth. "It is, indeed mine." He sneered with distaste at his weakness. "The Lady Thistle Cloud has been treating me, if you must know."
Nerian circled once, wearing her worry and agitation, not something she normally did, usually she was a stoic wolf. she barely registered Thistle had been treating him, her mind was flying over things to stop internal bleeding, but a lung bleed was usually more often the not fatal.
Nerian gave a frustrated whine then turned and ran, no she fairly flew her paws barely touching the ground as she covered the familiar trail to she shared garden. She pulled at the dirt and drew up a bit of the bitter root and reburied the plant before returning the the wolf not moments later, out of breath. She dropped a piece of root that looked like Ginseng root at his paws but it was not ginseng by far in fact the thing held a slight fragrance akin to turpentine.
This is Birthroot It's helps with coughs, Difficulty breathing and hemorrhage from the lungs, along with other things mostly to do with stopping bleeding. It got a peculiar aromatic taste when first chewed, but you'll need to chew it until it becomes bitter and acid when you start drooling only then can you swallow it. but it will help I promise. Nerian Frowned hoping this wolf would take the medicine offered. She'd have to get him a few days worth of the stuff but between Thistle and here there would be very little chance this wolf would die of it's injury what here it was.
The female's agitation and nervousness made Mordred wary. He had coughed up blood before, a few times in fact, and he was still well. There was not much for the female to be worried about. And yet, she ran off, clearly looking for something. She smelled of a healer, like Lady Thistle Cloud. They had very similar scents indeed, especially the presence of Ragnar's scent on their pelts.
The gray-furred female ran back with a root in her maw, dropping it before him and explaining to him what it was: birthroot. He sniffed it warily before following the female's instructions and chewing it until he winced at the bitter taste. When he began to salivate the knight swallowed, licking his chops in an effort to rid himself of the bitter taste. "Thank you, my Lady."