Wolf RPG

Akavir might have been more worried about what he assumed would be rage that would meet him upon presenting Mae to Reverie and requesting her help. This was yet another highlight to why he should not be a father—his inability to even protect his kids.

It was hard to be worried about that when all he cared about in the moment was getting Mae to the Willows safely, and quickly. He worried what infection might have set in—he worried that if she had only let Arlette look, that perhaps something more could have been salvaged…

The what ifs haunted him—the worry he felt until Mae could find herself in the hands of a healer she would let look at her. To know what to do—what would be.

So when they finally arrived to her borders, Akavir cast a worried look to his daughter—his shoulder pressing to her gently in reassurance as he ushered an urgent howl to the air—calling for @Reverie and notifying her of their presence.

Mae was a silent presence at her father's flank. She, too, worried for what Reverie might think — but more so for what she would say. Not all of her stubbornness about seeing a healer had been specific to Arlette. It was one thing to assume she would never see again, and quite another to hear it from a trained healer.

But they were here now; she couldn't avoid it any longer. Mae remained close to Akavir as he called for Reverie, their fur brushing lightly. It was reassuring to feel his presence at her side. The only thing she could see was faint, blurred shadows among the willows.

Akavir's voice at her borders was the last thing she'd expected to cut through the peace of her afternoon. It'd sent her into a bit of a tailspin at first. Reverie had rushed to get her daughters settled, to fetch @Everett and Tybault, to straighten her messy fur.

When the girls were safely under the care of their uncles and Reverie felt she looked presentable enough, she finally went to the borders — a bit late, a bit breathless, but quick to catch on to the scene before her nonetheless. Mae. The scent of infection. Reverie sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide.

Oh - Mae - She stepped forward thoughtlessly, muzzle extended to sniff at the wounds and gauge the progress of the infection. Come on, this way. Reverie urged them both to follow her further into the territory. She led them toward her herb den, where she'd taken Akavir on his last visit. There was no time to be wasted.

Reverie arrived, and while Akavir did not shy away to the side, her certainly made sure to keep himself out of the way. They were ushered forward—and while he knew Mae would be familiar with where the gilded dancer was taking them, he wasn’t, and thus, he allowed his shoulder to graze hers, to continue leading her should she need it.

The stronger scents of herbs drifted to him—a sharp reminder of Eshe, and he found his jaw tightening—

—the thoughts brushed back to the recesses of his mind.

The waiting felt as if it went on forever. But eventually Reverie arrived. Mae winced at her audible gasp, but did not shy away from the woman's approach. For the moment Reverie gave no verdict, and Mae was grateful for that. But it was coming, she knew it.

Mae hesitated only for a second, lingering to make sure her father would guide her. The Hushed Willows were familiar, but traveling was harder than she'd anticipated. She hadn't realized how often she'd trip over things without someone to lead the way.

They moved in silence. Left to her thoughts, Reverie found herself quickly falling into panic. The scent of infection was strong, and if it crept too far into Mae's skull, there would be little any healer could do to prevent her death. Did she know that? Did Akavir know that?

When they reached the cave, Reverie sat Mae in one corner and beckoned Akavir to the other. I need you to soak these in water and bring them back, please, She said softly, offering two pieces of dried moss for him to take. There's a stream in the meadow just outside.

Then she went to her little herb grinding station, a large flat rock with a broad, steeply curved stick beside it. Reverie sorted out several herbs to place atop the rock, and a few more to bring to Mae. She tried not to let herself think too much. No good could come of that.

While he offered space quite willingly to allow Reverie to do what she needed to do… he also was quick to move when she requested his assistance. She pushed the moss to him and before she even finished talking he had swiveled an ear to her, moss in mouth and ducking out to find the stream.

Even with the set task and the Creek wolves unquestioned presence by their gilded leader, Akavir remained an outsider within, eyes scanning hesitantly about him, waiting to see if anyone would interrogate him.

The stream found—the moss gingerly placed in the water as he made to hurry, scooping water over—and once satisfied, he swept back to the den, his eyes first upon Mae as he handed the moss to Reverie, feeling his guilt in his throat at the fiery red of the infection.

Mae was immediately difficult, but Akavir at least was quick to oblige Reverie's request. She murmured her thanks as she took the moss from him — but she was fully distracted now, and wouldn't pay any true attention to Akavir for hours to come.

It would be a long process to clean the mud, grit, and pus from Mae's eyes without damaging them further. Eventually Reverie would send Akavir off again on some pretext, but really all she wanted was to keep him away from the sights and sounds of his daughter's discomfort, though she tried to minimize that too. The father and daughter pair had been through enough already.