So the original first half of this post was lost when I somehow managed to edit it and entirely delete my post? If it's crappy I was in a rush to re-write it. *weeps*
The morning was tepid, warm even though dawn had only begun to break when Sinaaq had left his den. As the day wound on this particular temperature had allowed a thin fog to settle over the Valley, and further to settle in the darkness of Neverwinter Forest as the svelte Arrluk wove easily through the trees. He had been here a few times before and while he could not claim he knew the territory well, he would not dispute that he knew it well enough that he did not think getting lost within it's confines was likely. It could happen, sure, but he doubted it. Perhaps if the fog was thicker, creating the illusion of disorientation. As Sinaaq stepped deeper into the forest, nearing it's heart now he first heard the screeching caw of a bird breaking through the relatively serene silence. Ears cupped forth to find the direction that the sound had originated in. Under normal circumstances he would not bother himself with the prying curiosity especially when it came from a “lesser” creature but this noise pulled and tugged at his intrigue.
There were a few situations lately that had manipulated Sinaaq into admitting things that he did not wish too. Though Adlartok and Cara were not the first. No matter how hard it was that Sinaaq attempted to deny it, and to tell himself otherwise Solia had changed him. Changed him because he had loved her ...and because a part of him still loved her. He was not the same wretched creature that had left his birth pack. Granted, he was still tortured and there was nothing that he felt would fix that but he could not claim to be the same boy that had stolen Adlartok into the night.
The sound came again, this time less frantic and not nearly as shrill. Still, it called out. Sinaaq's steps slowed upon his approach, fierce, golden gaze finding it easily enough.
It was a raven, he saw. It was a wretched thing, with a long wound across it's chest — the source of the blood —, a wing that was likely broken if the extended way the creature held it was of any indication, and tufts of feathers having been torn out and laid scattered about it like oil spilled upon the bracken of the forest floor. It was a wretched thing that looked like it had been carved out of Sinaaq's own wretched soul. Immediately, a strange feeling of kinship washed over the darkling as he studied it's pitiful form. She let out a shrill cry causing his ears to slick back to his skull, hackles bristling at the possibility that her cries for aid might attract others or even more likely unwanted predators. He was an ugly thing Sinaaq couldn't help but think over the trickling pull of kinship with it, vain enough to mind it, but then so was he. Not physically, perhaps, but inside. It might have been easy to leave him there. It would have been easy to kill him and put him out of her misery. Kinder, perhaps; but Sinaaq wasn't kind.
The avian's beady black eyes met his of fierce gold and he hopped towards him with a useless flutter of his good wing, his head cocking to the side as if he were assessing him. “
Elenden,” He half hissed and have crooned to it in the guttural language his priestess sister had taught him. Should he survive his injuries and heal, he could be trained to be of assistance to him, Sinaaq could not help but consider. Or at the very least a companion — even if his wing never healed right then he would not be able to leave him like all of the others before him. Born of the darkling's own selfishness it was in that moment that Sinaaq decided to aid it, ghosting forward a step. “
We should see to that wound.” Not that he had any idea how to go about healing or setting anything.
She had decided to range out from the Spine some today, and after a short bout of looking for him (and not turning up a good trail), she loosed a short howl telling Lotan of her intentions -- just in case he decided to look for her and not find her. Especially since she didn't know how long she'd be gone, where she'd go exactly, or what she might run in to. It seemed courteous at least, so after that, she sprung into a lope that headed for the depths of Neverwinter and weaved through the evergreen forest's darkness.
Without a goal in mind, she was not swift to think far ahead. She had managed to stay mostly rooted to the Spine lately, as surprising as it was, but there was always an interest in the beyond. Of the packs, of the lands around, of the wolves themselves... she could go on forever, and would just head this direction until something guided her elsewhere. She never really liked to plan ahead, anyway.
The forest thickened, and she began to suspect she was approaching its heart. Somewhere along the way, the agouti Ostrega had slowed to a jog so to better take in the sights. Not long after, she found that her path had come to a trail -- one that seemed vaguely familiar in that she had encountered it around the Spine. Naturally, she lowered her nose to the ground and tracked it.
What she came upon had her head tilting immediately. Not only was the subtle undertone of blood scenting the air, but it was a strange sight -- the bird, wing outstretched, and wolf looming nearby. At first she had thought maybe he had hunted the bird, but something about his posture did not say wolf with a fresh meal.. "Hi," she greeted, having approached the dark-furred male and bird from the side. Somehow, she almost felt like she was intruding on something but curiosity won out in the end, especially since he was a packmate she didn't know. "... what's going on?" she asked, eyes glued to the feathered creature on the ground and ears splayed accordingly.
Company was not something that Sinaaq reveled in on most days, and while this day might not have been any different simply because he was Sinaaq and he liked to keep the world and it's inhabitants out and far away from him, the knowledge that he and the newly christened Elenden were not alone — though this did not come as a huge surprise to the darkling who had anticipated it well enough for the bird was making no attempts at being subtle or quiet — made him weary. The raven would be an easy target now, unable to escape to the air and while Sinaaq felt something of a kinship and had resolved to keep the wretched bird for himself did not mean that he was willing to fight for it. Likely, if the canine approaching wanted the thing as it's meal then Sinaaq would more than likely side step and allow it. It wasn't as if he couldn't find some other poor, unfortunate soul to manipulate.
Eyes of molten golden studied female as she approached, her footfalls having given her away before she had even had the chance to speak her greeting. Subtly, the Arrluk scented at the air, noting, fascinatingly enough that she smelled like the Spine. Likely, this was one of the pack mates that he couldn't be bothered to interact with. A small smirk of irony tugged at his lips for a second as he considered if this was participating enough for Cara's liking, and then reminded himself with a soft scowl that he didn't care if Cara liked what he was doing or not.
Sinaaq's pack mate approached him and Elenden then, her attention appeared to be focused on the wretched bird that, in turn, turned it's attention from Sinaaq to her. “I assume he was attacked, or lost a fight with another male,” Likely over a female and ended up losing horrendously, glad to escape with his wretched life. This story made Sinaaq even more gleeful (the sadist anyway), because it was something that he could relate to easily enough. Losing something more than important. Unfortunately, his own tale of how the raven had gotten this way only made Sinaaq's initial kinship with the ugly and injured thing strengthen. A soft snort left Sinaaq's lips as he studied her with an appreciative eye for a moment as she presumably studied the bird.
“It needs medical attention that I cannot provide it.” He concluded then, diverting his gaze back to the bird.
She was quiet underneath the scrutiny of his gaze, all while wondering and watching to see if she was truly welcome here. Since he was a pack mate, albeit not one she knew, the Ostrega did not anticipate violence.. but, was accordingly quick on her paws if matters went south in a hurry. She was curious, perhaps dangerously so, and if this did not irritate him, she would stay for now.
Watching the bird as it watched her back, her ears slicked back alongside a pensive frown. Judging by the dark male's words, he hadn't seen what had happened, exactly. But that was good enough for her.
Wyvern took a few small steps closer to the bird, head low and rest of her posture much the same, to see how it may react to her edging further into his space. He said it needed medical attention, and to her, this was a mystery. Besides time, slathering something herbal on it, cleaning it, and the off chance of.. resetting what was wrong.. she had no idea what to do about that predicament. Her knowledge all came secondhand, was incomplete, and applied to wolves.. not birds. "Do you know of any healers?" she asked, sparing the wolf a quick glance. She couldn't think of any in the Spine, and was certainly not one herself. "I don't, but.. if he were wolf, I'd guess it'd take a lot of time.. cleaning him up, maybe herbs to help? Can birds even do any herbal stuff? I don't know.. birds are so different," she looked at the feathered beast; if he did manage to survive, he may never be the same. Yet, if he didn't make it, at least he'd be a small meal..?
Sinaaq was, admittedly, not an overly social creature by nature though this was largely of his own devices. Perhaps if his childhood had not been so desolate and sad he might have been like most of his species: social. Even in the whole he was nothing short of an abnormality; though he was okay with this simple fact. This was not to say that he did not crave company at times, and when it presented itself to him that he did not latch onto it with a hunger. It had happened with Quicksilver, despite himself Sinaaq had allowed the other man to travel with him and had perhaps even begun to get close to him. This explained why the male's sudden and unexplained absence left him feeling ...in short many things. Betrayed. Angry. Among the simple and the fact that Sinaaq attempted to avoid feeling at all costs: he missed Quicksilver. Avoiding and denying it didn't make it any less true, the darkling knew, and thus he hoped that if he faced it, it might leave him alone.
Sinaaq watched as the woman moved closer to him and the wretched bird, though he did not retreat. She was closer than he let most wolves physically, the darkling very much liking his personal space not to be invaded but if she could perhaps somehow aid the bird in a way that he could not he was in no position to complain. Sinaaq's own gave flitted lazily to the bird, watching as it studied his pack mate with apparent interest, though the majority of the darkling's attention belonged to the woman. Ears cupped forth, though he could hear her just fine given their close proximity to one another as she spoke. Though she did not have to come right out and admit it Sinaaq freely assumed that she, herself, was no healer, either. Whether it was right or wrong mattered little to him, currently. “No,” He responded with a slight reluctance. That wasn't true precisely, for he knew a healer: Solia, but she was so far away from him and unavailable even so. Mentioning her would be useless, and only cause him pain he didn't want to feel. He'd had enough of that lately.
Sinaaq's gaze returned to her when she spoke, sounding fairly educated to him as she gave suggestions — though he certainly hoped for the sake of the bird's pitiful life that she hadn't meant he be the one to do it. Sinaaq hated asking for help, hated having to accept it, having had to look out and take care of himself and his own when he'd been still very much a child. The idea now repulsed him, but without it Elenden probably wouldn't make it. Of course if he survived and remained a cripple it would also work in Sinaaq's benefit but if he couldn't give him aid and he died? Sinaaq was no healer and had no idea what constituted a fatal wound from one that wasn't that bad, lest it was blatantly obvious. “Do you think his injuries are fatal?” He inquired, giving a slight pause before he asked next, “Can you help him?”
She didn't know what to say as she stared down at the wounded bird, admiring the slickness of its (non-disturbed) feathers and the beadiness of its eyes. She tried to remind herself it was a he now and then, although knee-jerk thought seemed to be 'it'..
Wyvern fanned her ears. "Well.. maybe not? Considering he's still alive... there's a chance that means something something. I'd think if it were bad enough, the shock would do him in before too much longer," she reasoned and sniffed the blood again to test this. These injuries weren't extremely fresh and obviously he had at least survived impact. But the unspoken implication here was that maybe that just hadn't happened yet. If he lived through the night, maybe. There was just no way to know for sure.
"I don't know, I guess.. do you know a good secluded place to take him? Maybe even better if we could somehow limit his movements once there..." Since Wyvern didn't really keep a typical den, and only sometimes bedded up in one of the small caves, she asked if he had something more suitable -- and hopefully closer. This was guessing that keeping him from thrashing around would really be beneficial. All of this was just that though.. guessing.