Riptide ventured through the King Elf Forest, ignoring the sense of deja vu he got occasionally. As to his knowledge he had never set food in this forest (he had but as his gangster counterpart), finding the sensation, the tug at his memory, bidding him to remember something of an ancient or perhaps even recent past quite annoying. It was blank and there was a certain part of his mind that he did not poke nor prod into, met with a vicious rage that seethed beneath his skin. It was without a cause as far as Riptide was aware and so he did his best not to trigger the random burst of pent up frustration at all costs. Clutched in a curved piece of bark he'd found whilst shifting through the bracken served as a usable way to transport his collection of medicinal plants. His mission for elder leaves had sent him away from Stavanger Bay and admittedly further south than he'd originally intended. The spirits were restless today, their voices a constant presence through the Forest, a never ending whisper. Riptide attempted to tune them out as best he could not particularly willing to commune with them today. They were quieter in the Bay, though the aspiring witch doctor assumed that this was the Sea's doing. In the Bay...the spirits were under his control but out here the wraiths ran wild and free like annoying little wisps.

His steps were still slow, his teeth grit around the cedar bark he panted around, though the shade of the forest kept the worst of the heat off of his dark, melanistic colored fur. His muscles remained sore and his shallow wounds still open, and itchy but he knew better than to aggravate them. They were healing and as shallow as they were would not mark him with lasting scars — which was important given his vanity. A noise — a exclamation of pain — caught Riptide's attention, his ears perking and pivoting atop his skull in the direction. He was close and thus altered his course to investigate. He studied the woman — an elder — in the distance and let out a muffled chuff around the bark in his mouth to announce his presence to her.

The addressed him and subtly he the svelte coywolf ghosted closer to investigate in more detail what her situation was and attempting to determine if she was in need of his assistance. The scents that clung to her pelt were unfamiliar to the witch doctor who moved like a wraith himself, a meticulous calculation to each movement he made. Not a total far cry from his gangster counterpart but the speech patterns and accents were totally different, and there was a fidgety, almost giddy sort of enigma to Riptide's movements; the movements of an intelligent beast that could not bear the thought of not having something to do ...or study. And study her he did. Her fur was grey and silver though if this was natural or from age he could not presently tell. She did not bear the supple beauty of a young woman but her blue-brown eyes held an experience that one would not find in the depths of a young creature's eyes. Her foot appeared to be stuck between a root and the ground and she did not strike the witch doctor as shy given that she made her demands.

For a moment, there was a slight rise to his brow and a soft snort as he set his bark down at his paws. “Eat you,” Riptide scoffed at her though it was admittedly less to her and more of him speaking to himself. “Now that would be just an awful waste,” The Sea had not demanded a sacrifice, nor did she commit any wrong to him, thus, he saw no need to resort to such extremes. He moved closer with a brindled excitement in his step, fascination in his fiery gaze, lowering his head as he moved to stand before her to inspect the root and her paw. “How did this happen?” He asked with unbidden curiosity, lacking the articulate politeness of his gangster counterpart. His tone was nothing short of professional and amiable but he was hardly so concerned with manners. He had a job to do and she needed his assistance.

Granted, she was not a wolf beneath the Sea King's rule but it was in his best interest and advantage to assist her nevertheless.

Not remembering the famine was a small bought of mercy — a good thing to come from the incident which spawned Riptide's creation. He was unusually gaunt from it but did not realize that there was a cause beyond how his svelte body was crafted. “Tsk,” The coywolf wordlessly reprimanded her in good nature (perhaps playfully) with a coy smirk as his eyes lifted to regard her before his attention returned back to his assessment when she admitted to how her predicament came about was attributed to clumsiness. Riptide's muzzle lowered towards the bracken covered earthen floor, eyes dissecting the angle of her paw and the position of the root she'd gotten it stuck in. It was not in so awkward position as to suggest she'd broken it. “And the hit you took...what caused it? Is it an abrasion? Or a bruise? You'll have to be more specific than that, my dear, if I'm to treat you.” The aspiring witch doctor informed her, squinting before he took a step back, lifting his head.

Absently, he noted that the insistent whispers of the wraiths had grown silent in the focus of his work and for this he was subtly grateful. They were a gift as much as they were annoying little nags. “Well,” Riptide drew with derisive solemnity. “I'm afraid we'll have to chew it off.” He kept his face straight for a few moment as he gave her the false diagnosis before a wicked grin played at the corners of his lips. “I'm joking, that was a joke.” He told her seriously, not daring to let loose the soft chuckle that bubbled within his chest in case she didn't find his “doctor's humor” all that amusing. If she did he wouldn't be terribly offended. It as quite dry and morbid as humor went (but then again Arturo was never one for humor). He'd make a poor court jester.

“It doesn't appear broken simply stuck, but it went in and so it will come out.” No doubt attempting to free her might cause her pain and be something of a challenge but it seemed their only option and the easiest, at the very least. “I've got Elder leaves with me but they will only help with a sprain,” He informed her gesturing to the curved section of bark with his slim muzzle. “I saw opium poppy nearby though. The seeds will ease your pain. I can collect them now quick and you can take them before we attempt to free your paw or after, though they will take a short bit of time to take effect.” The choice, as his patient, was up to her.

She'd been bitten, she corrected him. He could have sworn she'd said hit but sure enough as he pushed his face unceremoniously down to her leg to inspect her paw closer he did see the abrasion made by teeth that he had not previously noted before. “Did this lone wolf give any indication as to why it bit you? It wasn't rabid wasn't it?” Because Riptide valued self preservation far too much to agree to aid a wolf that would catch rabies. He didn't particularly catching anything that would cut his life short. Death would be a mercy for her, then, rather than go mad by the disease. A low giggle escaped the aspiring witch doctor's lips then as he fixated her in his gaze once more. “You are appealing but not in a way that would inspire me to want to eat you.” A coy play on the expression “so cute I could eat you up” (certainly not one Riptide had ever understood).

Riptide's salmon pink tongue swiped across his chops once as he made a slow circle, his eyes rapidly looking to see if he could spot any marigold. The flower's petals chewed up and placed on a wound had a good reputation for slaving off infection. “marigold chewed and placed on that bite will serve to both keep it covered and fight off any infection.” Riptide told her as he completed his circle, though he still had to collect some poppy, yet. “I'll only be a few minutes,” He padded over to his piece of bark. “I'd tell you not to venture far but well that's unnecessary.” He offered her what he thought was a charming grin and a wicked glint before he scooped up his makeshift satchel and loped off in the direction of the opium poppies.

Riptide collected them as quickly as he could, careful not to ingest any of the seeds himself. Riptide didn't see any marigolds but as luck would have it there were plenty of oak leaves to spare and he gathered a mouthful and added them to the opium poppies before he made his back to where he'd left his patient waiting. He set the bark down near the root and her trapped paw and pulled the oak leaves and opium poppies out, separating out a small dosage for her. He nosed the opium poppies towards her so she could eat them, and collected what was left for his personal stores back in Stavanger Bay. “Chew them well before you swallow them. They will work quicker,” He advised her. “I saw no marigolds but I found oak leaves which also work so once your paw is free I will chew some into a poultice and put it on that bite for you.”

“You're going to have to pull your paw back out the way it went in. Try twisting and wiggling it to see if you can make it easier to free. You might be able to loosen up the root some enough to reduce the amount of pain it'll cause you to free it.” He paused a moment, considering offering to consult the spirits for her but shook off the idea. He hardly needed their help for this and they had finally just shut up and left him alone while he worked.

“I see,” Riptide murmured when his patient explained that the lone wolf hadn't been rabid. This was assuring, for the both of them, no doubt. “Tell me,” Riptide drew in a distracted tone as he focused his dissecting and piercing gaze to the root her paw was trapped in, attempting to judge it's thickness and how tightly packed the earth around it was. Botany was an important part of his job but he was no landscaper by any means and any attempt he may make to aid her in freeing her paw might only serve to do more harm than it did good. “Do you always fight over your food?” It seemed foolish to the aspiring witch doctor, if he was being honest. He didn't have the full story, of course, she had not specified who started the scuffle but still he couldn't help himself the question. It seemed she simply had a bought of bad luck but two incidents of it in one day...well that just seemed like the spirits were either having too much fun with her or she'd done something to upset them.

She was hesitant, and instead asked him, albeit with some flattery thrown in, if he couldn't loosen the root a bit. It was an old gnarled thing, the root and he looked down it. He blinked slowly, contemplating it for a moment before he spoke, “I suppose I can try. It might do more harm then good.” But they wouldn't really know until he tried. He moved closer, trying to determine which tree the root had came from and which way the end of it would be. The side closer to the trunk might not give any pull being stationed as it was. When he thought he found it, he moved to his left — her right — and dug a bit at the soil around the root, trying to loosen the dirt around it. The action pulled at his sore and bruised muscles and he winced visibly a few times but uttered no complaint.

Riptide knew some trees could be toxic and that splinters were particularly hazardous so he tried only to dig it up that it might loosen and she could pull it free without the extra complications before he attempted to chew or rip it up with his teeth.

The truth was Riptide probably should have taken a few days to rest since his fall from the cliffs but there was too much work to be done and he found that he could not simply sit idle. The wraiths were restless and he needed to be prepared. He was not the only aspiring witch doctor of the Bay but that hardly mattered. It was no excuse for him to be lax or to rest while he could be out collecting herbs and building his cache. His patient freed her paw with a cacophonic whimper but the important part that she was free — and it wasn't as if they hadn't know pain would be involved. There'd been no easy way and despite her jesting chewing it off while beyond excessive, would have also caused her excruciating pain. Pain that the opium he'd made her ingest might not be able to combat — at least not in the small dosage he'd given her.

He gave his shoulders a roll, gritting his teeth against the pain that rippled through the muscles, yet largely ignored it. “Well that wasn't so bad,” but he was a little breathless though he doubted his aches were anything compared to her's. The opium would kick in soon enough and he doubted she would feel much of her wounds when it did. Unfortunately, he needed his mind clear for he still had quite a ways to go before he reached the Bay. “I'm going to put a poultice on that bite now, so if you could hold out your leg for me,” He suggested with a thoughtful hum before he nosed through the oak leaves he'd portioned out and took them in betwixt his jaws and chewed them until it formed a (gross) paste in his mouth.

When it was a good spreading constancy he moved over to her and with a moment of hesitation, spit the chewed oak leaf paste on the abrasion, spreading it as best he could and with as minimal pressure as possible so that it covered the entire bite as opposed to his nose. “There,” The witch doctor withdrew admiring his handiwork for a moment. “It might cause some irritation and itch when it dries but try to let it be, at least until you get home.” He didn't know if her pack had a medic or not but surely someone capable could keep an eye on it and her for safe measure.

Her paw was freed, he'd addressed the bite she'd received, he went through the mental checklist in his mind, confident that he'd tended to everything. “Was there anything else you need me to tend to?” He asked, just in case.

She didn't need anything medically tended to, it seemed but she did request a name and most interestingly a kiss on the cheek. What an unorthodox request. His name he could give readily, but the sea witch took a few seconds to marvel over her last request. It had been rather brazen but he supposed that it would be wrong for him to deny her such an innocent request. It kind of reminded Tori of the similar method of giving a child a lollipop when they were good at the doctor's office. “I'm called Riptide,” The sea witch introduced himself to her with a small simper tugging at the corners of his lips. “I live on the coast in Stavanger Bay.” He added in case she found herself needing his medical expertise. He doubted she would have reason to wonder that way — they were quite far from his home but as a good doctor it felt like the right thing to include.

He drew in then, closing the distance he had placed between them to admire his handiwork, bemused as to the nature of her request, and brushed his muzzle against her the silvery grey fur of her cheek, offering her a small lick that proved to be the equivalent of her “kiss on the cheek” before he pulled back, his brow lifting ever so slightly as if to ask quietly ask her is that all? Truly, she should get home before the opium poppies began to work — though subtly he didn't have wonder if their effects had already begun to kick in.

“I'll keep that in mind,” The sea witch accepted the invitation graciously with a slight nod of his head in gratitude. Aside from the gathering of medicinal plants he was not sure what else might inspire him to venture this far south for he was primarily needed in the Bay, yet that didn't mean he wouldn't ever find his way to the Hinterlands again. “I trust you can get back to your home alright?” There was some part (likely Arturo) that felt the need to ask it, though Riptide couldn't fathom why. Manners were not so wholly apart of how he operated unlike his gangster counterpart. He was quick and decisive and dallying simply wasn't in the sea witch's nature. Yet, there was something that felt fundamentally wrong with letting her go without offering to talk her home — especially if the opium had begun to take effect. He did not outright make the 'Can I walk you home?' offer but it was heavily implied in the question, enough so that despite that he was not as abrupt with his words — though this tactic was implied to test the perception of who ever he was speaking to always studying even when he wasn't attempting to cure or ease anything — she would, hopefully, pick up on it. Thus far she had shown him no indication that she would not understand the unspoken question and with this in mind he made no attempts to be blunt about it.

She declined his offer and Riptide watched her walk — well limp, really — until her silhouette vanished in the distance. He lingered for only a few seconds longer as he rearranged the collected medicinal plants on his little bark carrier. Riptide scooped it up in his mouth, careful to apply just the right pressure to keep it from slipping and to keep him from destroying it. With a quick glance over a svelte shoulder to ensure that she hadn't returned — she hadn't — he turned his attention to the horizon and began the trek back to Stavanger Bay.