Wolf RPG

A full month passed while Glaukos was rigorously tended-to by the resident medic (@Ashlar) and on occasion, under strict supervision, a boy that the delirious man occasionally caught glimpses of (Reki). He was aware enough at times to eat on his own or be led carefully out of his resting place to relieve himself; but as the fever deepend, at his worst moments Glaukos forgot where - and when - he was. It felt like being a prisoner, a feeling he could recognize and resent in his healing state.

The wounds gradually closed. Pieces of Glaukos returned, and he could stay awake and mostly coherent for longer periods; and, thankfully, he didn't die. But he wasn't in Mereo — this was far from it, yet laced with familiar scents. The man was lethargic as he watched the goings-on of strangers in his periphery, and occasionally perked up when he caught sight of red fur, thinking of @Avicus, even in the off-chance it was someone else (such as @Masquerade, or @Redd).

Glaukos roused from a plot of dirt as if risen from the dead, and he very much could've been; the medical care here at the Rise could've been magic, for all he knew. Having a necromancer on call would be a blessing to any pack. He was shaky as he started out, and stabilized as he climbed along a grassy knoll, settling in the sunlit grass to warm himself.

Redd was a silent observer often within the rise, and of late she’d been disquieted.  It did not suit her to think ill of pack, but she disliked the way Lilia drove her brother and cousin to conflict. She saw the way they chased, came at her call and tended her affections.  It was a situation that would not end well.

There was jealousy too, but that mattered little.  Redd had no prospects within the pack; brother, cousin, family.  She would need to seek outside, while Lilia commanded their peers in a manner unfit.  Her distaste reached towards the boys too; they should be smarter than that.

If they drew blood again, injured one another again, she would force Lilia to choose.  She would not have their pack broken on vanity.  Wealda could not see all that she saw.

Redd stewed on this as she brought a freshly caught trout to the broken stranger.  He did not yet wear their scent fully, but when he ate their food he was one of them.  Redd approached where he was on the knoll, dropped the fish nearby, and then paused to stare a moment.  He had not died yet; this was good, as it meant her catch was not wasted on him.

The sun did not take long to make him feel hot, as if his fever had returned, and at least in this case it was a pleasant warmth without inflicting the mental confusion from before. He didn't so much as begin his sprawl before something thick and wet hit the grass nearby, and he lifted his head to see the red-backed wolf, and his nose gave a twitch when the scent of fish drew along the springtime air.

He gave one cursory glance at the wolf (having forgotten all about his arrival here and the role they played); the look was almost like asking permission, or, for me? Seeing as the stranger wasn't diving nose-first in to the fish's guts, Glaukos made the easy assumption that it was meant for him, so he got to his feet and pivoted enough to reach the thing.

As weak as he'd become, his appetite had yet to fully return. Obviously any food spared for him was a sacrifice he'd have to pay back. It was valuable time and effort. Yet he was slow to pull at the fish tail, and to cut in to that belly, even when the blood seeped in to the grass.

If she noticed the doubt, she nudged the kill closer, then stepped back a distance and sat down silently while he ate.  Her eyes remained politely averted, scanning the distance, and only the flick of her ears betrayed that she was paying any attention to him.  She did not wish to challenge for any part of the meal until he’d had enough of it.

Until then she was content to remain and keep silent company.