Paws met the ground with heaft, slow and loud was all Rye could manage after the days journey to Sun Mote Copse. His injured body fought back against every step, searing his wound and releasing pain unto his core like a pack of ravenous hounds. They bit, clawed and mawed him asunder, leaving him whining and shedding few tears he couldn't afford to lose. Ryes' hope dried up long before he began his journey, only desperation drove him forward and the instinctual will to live cracked the reins. The male thought himself already dead, his wound was still hotter than hell and his body melted any snow or ice around him as he slept on the ground. His only save and grace was the knowledge of tree bark painkillers gifted to him by Effie but she was gone now, he hoped the best for her. Of course he missed her but yearning for someone didn't pay the life bill; water did however. A quiet stream in the distance glistened with what little light the moon gave off, it was a beautiful sight for exhausted eyes. Rye wobbled himself into the stream, letting the frigid water cool his wound; with any luck it would help cleanse it of dried skin and blood. As the water cooled his skin Rye lapped up the water greedily and hungrily devouring every ounce he could take. Long over due was his break, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world had arrived. Finally hope could begin rebuilding.

Ryes' belly was seemingly overflowing with water and his hunger pains vanished as the water superfically gave the impression of food. He was greatful mother nature gave him another chance at life, a chance he wouldn't take for granted. He needed to find Towhee and the others but they could be anywhere and Teekon was massive, the odds of finding them again was slim but not zero. For the night Rye would build up a comfy bed, made of the finest dead leaves the land had to offer and a small abandoned bunny burrow that he caved in. Altogether it provided warmth and with warmth and comfort came sleep, danger was far from Ryes' mind and hopefully far from him in general. Lady luck be kind.  

For the first time in ages his dreams took him back to his blood family, his brothers, mother and father gathered in the large cave for the youths coming of age celebration. The whole pack celebrated with ritual dances and a large elk feast, chants filled the air as the patricarch and matriarch danced in the middle of the cave. The night was full of love, cheer and glee. Soon the youths, including Rye, were set to dance with their blood siblings and in the end howl together, releasing their youthful spirits back to Mother (nature) for the next generation to harbor. After that night they were no longer tykes but grown and ready to choose their own paths. After the howl Rye and his siblings wrestled, subltly trying to show who contained the most prowess but for those few minutes, the male didn't care if he won or not. To be back with his family was a blessing, he missed them dearly, his mother especially and even his fathers boring lectures. It was all too perfect and of course it had to end rather abruptly with a voice that didn't belong to any of his famly members. 

Tired eyes lifted and stared into the dark, catching sight of a white haired wolf. Rye stood and limped towards the stranger but kept his distance, hackels remaining flat. "If you're here for an easy meal I'm afraid it won't be easy. You've no doubt smelled the blood by now but I won't stop fighting until my last breath." His voice was monotonous, apathetic, he had fear but Mother forbid he go out crying and begging, he had gone through too much to leave the earth begging. He was too sick, too tired and far too fed up with trouble finding him that he was more than ready to die fighting. His fight may be short lived but the fight was all that mattered to him. In a perfect world, words would be mightier than claw but the world was far from perfect. Rye was taught to de-escolate but if the past week has taught him anything, talking does nothing, not anymore at least. Whatever came of the wolfs' visit so be it. 

As the white male spoke the darker one eyed the skulls, the supposed medicine 

stashes. Rye found it curious that one skull belonged to a wolf, alarming but curious. 

Death and health in one, a brutal irony that Rye was sure to be on purpose. However that 

did not ease the churning of his belly but exacerbated his uneasiness. As the other male bowed 

Rye peered into the contents of the skulls and saw the assortment of herbs. An ounce of 

anxiety peeled away but no matter how convincing the wolf may appear, Rye would remain guarded. 

He did want help, his wound burned something fierce and it was starting to spread. There was no doubt 

an  infection, the male doubted he would make it another two weeks before Mother Earth would take him. 

The gamble to accept help had to be made.

Rye settled down and sat where he stood, lifting his wounded shoulder a few inches off the ground. The 

release of pressure brought with it pain and throbbing, second by second Rye worked through the pain 

and let go of the breath he withheld once the pain subsided. "Well Vein, my name is Rye. I do need help,

 I ain't afraid of admitting that but that wolf skull is ominous, a sort of red flag for a supposed healer." 

Rye knew so little about decomposition, the age of the skull was lost to him but it appeared fairly clean and dry.

"What healer carries around a skull of our own kind? Is it some sort of dark joke?" He indignantly asked, 

miffed about the sight of death in front of him. Ryes' slight indifference to death was caving, leaving fear and

annoyance to fill the vacuum.   

The backstory Vein gave was, to say the least, unexpected. To Rye it did not seem like a tall tail, it was a rather specific and dulled the male down in the end. There were questions that arose but it was not his place to ask, pain from his tender wound dragged his attention away anyhow. A cold nose sifted through his fur, presumably gathering all the information it could on the status and condition of the wound. Rye had not bothered to remove the matted, dirt and blood infused fur thanks to the smarting pain that came with any sort of touch. As the medic moved the fur, tiny pin pricks dotted his skin in quick succession and left Rye holding his breath; releasing it once the medic was finished. 

He wasn't too surprised to hear he had an infection, the way his wound burned throughout the night was a dead give away. The rest of medical jargon was completely lost to him, which was fine, if he understood it all he'd be having serious doubts about his temporary personal medic. All he wanted was the pain and swelling to reduce and never return, the past few weeks for the male were hell on earth. Losing weight, dehydration and nearly starving to death was torture, even if the male had past experiences with it. Rye was confident a few years have been taken off his lifespan but he was also granted to live the remaining years he may have. Give and take, life and death; a cycle that was dutifully kept in check by nature. A myriad of questions pelted Ryes' brain but he didn't want to be up all night, so he kept his mouth shut and let Vein do what he needed. 

.

While the white one got lost in his tasks, Rye simply laid on his good shoulder, propping himself up by his elbow and watched the medic pace back and forth, lost in their own world. For a minute Rye was convinced he was forgotten about until Vein dropped a stick in front of him before explaining the need for it. With a great sigh, Rye lifted himself up from the ground and prepared himself for the agony that was soon to consume him. "I've eaten enough bark to choke a bear, I won't bite you but do tell your story, it will give me something to focus on while you work. If you need to move me a certain way tell me, or just move me the way you need." Rye dragged the branch closer to him just in case but the smell of the bark and the though of the texture already made him queasy. Too many bark painkillers ingested left him a tad resentful of the trees and their extremities. 

 


Pain clawed into his shoulder, digging into his muscles and making itself at home. To say Rye stifled his pain with a series of whines and muted growls would be a lie, the truth of the matter was he nipped at Vein on multiple occasions. Sloppy, blind bites that never managed to connect with the white males skin. His paws clawed the snow until frozen dirt was thawed and cultivated, if only wolves were vegetarians Rye would be a protégé. Apologies for his bites were poorly thrown together, hasty nothings that could easily be mistaken as condescending remarks. However they were the opposite, he was sincere with each one but was too drunk on the pain to sound genuine. The introduction to Veins story was lost to Rye, drowned out by deafening white noise of torment but once the pain simmered down to manageable, his story came into full focus.
.
Rye listened quietly, intrigued by the 'Two legs' Vein mentioned, he had never heard nor seen such creatures. Vivid imaginations of furry, wolf legged bipeds crossed his mind, their height as tall as the tree tops with fangs as sharp as winter ice. A harrowing imagination, it left Rye with a worrisome knot in his belly in fear of meeting such ferocious creatures. It was something straight out of a nightmare, only the nightmare was all too real gauging by Veins' visible pain retelling his story.

.

"I see." Rye began, quietly contemplating his next words, "These two legs you speak of are unfamiliar to me, I ain't ever seen them around here. I can't speak for all of these lands but in these parts I have seen none. I'm sorry you lost more than just your pack, I can see this still bothers you greatly. I hope you can find true peace." It was blunt, normally Rye would sugar coat and be gentler but after everything he endured there was no room for pleasantries. Sleep was beginning to consume him, leaving Rye muttering out sluggish replies to Vein, if anything was spoken at all. 

Days blended together leaving no noticeable traces of their
existence, at least nothing for Rye to grasp on to. Rarely did
he wake for Vein, even during the poultice changings. A few
times did he manage words or perhaps grumbles of nothing as
the haze of exhaustion battled to keep him under. The weeks of
fighting the infection sapped so much out of him, death was at 
the border waiting for its opportunity to claim the males spirit.
Death would have to return another day. When the thick tar of
exhaustion began receding Rye opened his eyes to bright, 
blinding lights seemingly coming from every direction. At first
Rye kept his eyes sealed and hidden from the light but a voice
encouraged him to fight to open them. One painful step at a 
time the male adjusted to the days light. 
.
Once he adjusted the spoken words began to register and
he took his time questioning it himself. Waking up after
days of near constant sleep was going to leave someone 
a little misshapen and groggy. Rye tried to mush down his
new hairdo but it failed, who knew sleeping in relatively
the same position for extended periods of time could do
that. "Disoriented but better, my shoulder has lost weight."
He finally answered. "And mass, no hair but I'm not dead.
I will take hair loss over death. Hell of a steal." He laughed.
Recovery wasn't complete but a few extra days of rest and
relaxation would do him good.
.
"I owe you but I have no means of repaying you back, I have
no pack and no stashes of food. All I can offer is my help with 
any task you need, or if you trust me. I can return in a month to
bring gifts, whatever they may be. Alternatively you can call
upon a favor either now or sometime in the future. I owe you 
my life. If not for you I would not have made it much longer."
Debts were not something he was taught to ditch, especially 
life debts. 
  

Without another word spoken from the darker male, he watched as
Vein trotted off into the distance. When the favor would be called
upon, was a mystery that may never be solved but Rye was confident,
he would be summoned. Wonderment awaited his future.