Sleeping Dragon been half goddess, half hell

For @Lucani. I moved the Shardul thread a little more up to date but before Goliath has left so this is more current. @Gyda can come in later, if you'd like, since her howl isn't hiding what's going on.

By the time she reached the borders of Sleeping Dragon, her shoulder sears in pain. She’s unable to put the entire share of her weight on the leg and once she’s well into the territory of her home, she’s able to let her guard down for a short period of time. She rushed Goliath off once they’d gotten back and now she just needs a moment to clear her mind before she calls for Lucani. Everything rushes back at once, overwhelming her, and she heaves a deep breath that billows in front of her face.

After a few heaving breaths, the pain because a dull throb once she’s taken the weight off the leg. She lifts her nose and calls for her healer but doesn’t try to mask the strain it causes her. Her eyes close, cringing against the sound forced from her body that leaves the ringing in her ears echoing against the walls of her head.

Please could you include in your next post a handy description of Thurin's exact wounds so Lucani can see what's up. <3

The older female's expression was stoic and purposeful, a frown upon her brows as she headed fast for the Alpha's call. Her powerful paws rose flurries of snow as they hit the ground, and did not halt until the small, dark, once-proud form of Thuringwethil was in sight. Her wounds were... exceptional, and it took Lucani a fleeting glance and a whiff of the scent on that black fur to realise that she had not been attacked by a wolf.

Thuringwethil, lay down please. You are safe. She could sense one or two other Sleeping Dragon wolves somewhat nearby, but other than that there was nothing — it didn't seem she'd been followed.

There was an iced-over puddle inches from them, and without delay Lucani set about trying to break it with a stamp of her strongest forepaw. The first thing they needed here was water.

I don't know why I didn't do it in the first post. Maybe if I slowed down once in a while I would have realized it, hahaha! Basically he clawed her right shoulder and she's probably got a concussion.

She isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting there—she isn’t she she even made the call—but soon there’s a sudden appearance by her healer and she blinks a few times to settle her vision. A low rumble occurs in her chest but Lucani’s voice slows it down, giving her instructions that nearly make her scoff. It settles in the back of her mouth but, after a stubborn moment of thinking—she said it out loud, right?—she’ll be okay, she feels a little woozy and sways in her position.

Trying to lower her front end to the ground is a little harder than she remembers but she does, robotic and jerky motions until she’s sternal and her elbows are tucked into her chest. The same shoulder. Lucani’s treated once before, open by three several-inch gashes, soaking and matting her fur in blood. The second swipe only torn skin already wide open and set a pinball flailing madly around in her head.

Thuringwethil tries to hold on to what she can, shifting so the pain in her leg eases up on the pain in her head—the cougar hadn’t killed her, just like she said he wouldn’t. However, she’s not sure if Lucani is meant to be split into two separate entities that looked exactly the same and she blinks a few times, looks away, and tries again.

^___^ Righto, ty~

The disorientation, the blinking, the failure to speak — all warning signs pointing to Thuringwethil being concussed. That was not good, though Lucani hadn't even had a chance to inspect the wounds yet. There was no knowing which, if any, could be the fatal hurt. But at least this meant she could multitask — it didn't matter if the young female wasn't used to following instructions, but she'd have to. It's very important that you stay awake. Don't close your eyes.

With that, Lucani's forepaw succeeded in stamping through the layer of ice on the puddle, and she could feel cold clean water. She soaked her paw deeply in it, and then immediately moved her paw to hover above Thuringwethil's wounds so that the water drip-dropped down onto them, cleaning the injuries and starting to wash away the blood for Lucani's inspection. Of course the healer did not warn Thuringwethil that all this would hurt, for she knew her to be a warrior and no stranger to pain.

Three deep gashes became visible. She was right that wolf claws could not do this — her educated guess was a cougar. Was the perpetrator — the cougar? — rabid? Do you know?

The thing Thuringwethil wants to stop the most is the spinning; the pain in her shoulder she can deal with, especially if she doesn’t move it, but the spinning is making her stomach churn. She lowers her head, resting it on her paws, and even closes her eyes while Lucani works at the puddle and breaking it open. She doesn’t hear this—she barely hears the words to stay awake—and so she slowly opens her eyes and watches the tawny wolf dip her paw in the cold water.

The young woman watches her as she moves but she doesn’t expect the sudden cold water on her wounds. The distance she feels in her mind is brought back full force, feeling a pull in her lips as she snarls at the sudden sensation. Thuringwethil can’t bring her head around fast enough to force the water away, quickly dizzied by too fast of a spin, and she closes her eyes. Her head lands heavily on the ground, grinding her teeth to steady herself.

“I don’t know,” she manages to say but she isn’t exactly sure of the question until a moment later, focusing on breathing through the pain amplified by her confusion. “No,” she decides as she tries to recollect the last few hours. The cougar had spoken to her, enough to be lucid, but the extent of his problems were unknown. He had attacked her out of no where but Thuringwethil knew the beasts were brutal for no reason at all.

The middle-aged Healer gave a short nod to show she understood. Thuringwethil was uncertain at first, thinking perhaps only of how fierce and mad some cougars could be (Lucani knew this only from hearsay), but then settled on an answer. This was good. She had no doubt Gyda was capable of leading Sleeping Dragon well enough on her own, but the idea of Thuringwethil, their Heda, going rabid... that would leave a scar that would show on the pack forever. So they were safe from that fate, at least.

The wounds were deep, and Lucani's cache of herbs was too far from here. The girl was bleeding thanks to her trek — this was an emergency. Thinking fast, Lucani eyes flew to a dark clump of weeds nearby. I'm going to apply goosegrass to stop the bleeding. Do stay awake, now, she insisted again in her otherwise respectful voice.

With a dash to her step, Lucani found (to her quiet relief) a good growth in the weeds. Goosegrass was sticky, and unpleasant to hold, so it was difficult to place it at Thuringwethil's side. When she'd done so, she swiftly chewed both herb and seed and applied the juice delicately to all three wounds. They were too deep to lick, but the juice would purify the blood to help prevent infection and to slow the bleeding itself. Once this was done, she set about using the remaining sticky seeds, which clung like hell to strands of fur, as makeshift stitches — anything to close those gaping wounds. This would be a cumbersome and painful process.

Thuringwethil had been knocked around. She’d been training since she could remember, knocked down in sparring and in battle. She’s sure every part of her body has been bruised at one point or another, but the ringing in her ears isn’t like anything she’s ever felt before. Her head throbs, sourcing out to the cold water on her shoulders, and she feels like her head is visually pulsing with each lunge of pain from her limb.

Lucani moves away from her and she jerks her head, looking up to see her disappear. “Okay,” she mumbles even though the woman disappeared from her side. She shifts her weight to sit sternal once more. “Where’s @Gyda?” she asks, turning her head to look and find Lucani a few steps away then rushing back to her side to work on her shoulder. She cringes, lifting her lip in a silent, snarling cry.

She did not hesitate as Thuringwethil bravely stifled her cries — Lucani had long learned to soldier on in the face of another's pain. Nor did she hesitate in the task at hand, which was an intricate and messy one. The ice water had cleaned the wounds a little, and now she was attempting to close them with gooseweed and matted fur alike. Only when Thuringwethil was out of danger would Lucani depart to retrieve a painkiller, but that would also wait for company. For she did not entirely trust Thuringwethil to stay still and not try to walk away if she left her side.

At her Heda's question, Lucani finally paused in her work to turn away from the girl's sensitive ears and shoot a deep, low, loud howl up into the air. It was a respectful but urgent summoning for @Gyda, in case the female had not heard her co-Alpha's howl from earlier. Lucani wondered silently if Gyda, too, had been embroiled in this mysterious cougar battle and the two had become separated... if this was the case, what state would Gyda be in?

Thuringwethil's howl had been alarming to Gyda, whom had been patrolling on the opposite side of the Dragon when Heda's call had risen into the air; it had taken some time to travel across the territory though her gait was as quick as she could make it without full out running. She sensed the urgency even before Lucani's howl rose up for her though by this time Gyda was closer, willing herself to make her pace more rapid. She was not sure what was happening but it hadn't sounded good and Lucani's urgency only made an unbidden anxiousness rise within Gyda's chest as she hurried to where the two women were. All of the worst case scenarios began to play through Gyda's mind, holding her breath as she slowed, coming upon them. 

Thruingwethil was sitting upright ...which Gyda took to assume meant she wasn't on her death bed but it didn't look what Gyda would have considered well. Idly, the viking queen could not help but wonder if the dread and anxiety was something Thistle had felt when Ragnar had came home torn open; it wasn't anything Gyda had ever thought to ask her mother though now she wished she would have. “Thuringwethil,” Gyda's accented voice was barely a whisper. She was used to seeing gruesome wounds — this came along with the territory of being a shield-maiden; Hel she'd seen Berserkers die — but this was, somehow, different. Because Thuringwethil was Thuringwethil and if there was one thing that Gyda could not stand the thought of it was someone she was close to getting hurt or dying.

She'd already lost one that she cared deeply for, she did not want to lose another.

“What has happened to you? Who has done this?” There was volume this time as she presented her inquiries to Heda before she turned her attention to Lucani whom was hard at work. “Will she be ok?” Out of all the questions Gyda had asked thus far that one was the most important to her at the moment.

Lucani wasted no time when she asked for her queen but she winces when the howl goes up, even if it had been presented gingerly and with care. Her head still buzzes and she closes her eyes, careful to keep her head upright. Hearing Lucani snap at her again lingers in the back of her mind so she remains still, wishing to lay her head down on her paws and sleep. Just a reprieve, a few minutes to rest, and while she knew she couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t stop her from trying.

Before she’s able to, however, Gyda’s thunderous paws shake the ground and she turns to look at her with closed eyes. Her head follows her voice and she tries to listen but the questions are hazy to her ears but she’d been asked the same thing before when in recovery from battle.

“Feisripa,” she murmurs and finally manages to open her eyes. Gyda’s worry hits her, her face stoic but the depth to her gaze rests heavy enough to give her the feeling she’d be okay—the wounds were localized to her formerly injured shoulder and her brain a little loose from the impact. Whatever questions were left, she finds herself unable to answer.

The healer had been keeping calm throughout all of this, but as she was briefly distracted by the arrival of Gyda she felt a rare surge of panic hit her heart when she noticed Thuringwethil drifting off. She was about to either lick or insist her back into waking when those dark grey eyes opened (to her relief), acknowledging the presence of the other Queen. This was the work of a cougar, she was safe in confirming to Gyda, but even as she said this she was already getting back to work on tying the wounds together with goosegrass.

I'm fairly confident she'll live on the condition that we don't yet let her fall asleep, but she'll be in some pain for a while, and will need time to recover. For now, she let the two Alphas talk if they could (she didn't know if "Feisripa" was nonsense or code), but she knew that either she or Gyda would shortly have to track down some more herbs to prevent infection. The goosegrass had stopped the bleeding, but there was more to be done before the young warrior could relax.

It is not Thuringwethil that responds to Gyda's rapid fire questions but rather Lucani. It was with a great hesitance that Gyda forced herself to look away from the ebony draped and injured Heda to allow her icy, caribbean gaze to fall upon the older woman and medic. “A cougar,” Gyda repeated, though it was purely for her own benefit. While she had never had the misfortune of coming face to face with one of the felines herself she knew that they were dangerous. A threat. Though the damage upon Thuringwethil's flesh was not proof that the shield-maiden had needed, it was proof that was before her eyes nevertheless. Her eyes lowered and she let out a low whine, a moment of vulnerability, exposed for Heda and their subordinate to see as she, gingerly lowered her head to nuzzle the side of the ebony woman's cheek though Gyda's touch is feather-light as if Gyda is afraid she might accidentally hurt the other woman.

Her gaze lifted back to Lucani as she spoke, her confidence not all that reassuring to Gyda when she makes mention of the condition. That, as she told it, if Thuringwethil accidentally fell to slumber then there was a possibility that she might succumb to death. “How do we keep her awake?” Gyda asked, more concerned than she had been previously. Like Ragnar, she had always seen Thuringwethil like a force of nature: something so inherently apart of her life that to imagine her nothing more than a memory was nothing short of blasphemous; and Gyda was finding that she was not coping well with Ragnar's death. In this, she was confident that if Thuringwethil allowed the valkyries ...or what ever she believed in (if anything at all) to take her life force from her corporeal body it might be the undoing of Gyda. Her breaking point. “She will not fall asleep until you are certain that she will not die if she does.” It was a command as Gyda spoke it, unwilling to lose her Heda.

“And when she is well enough to speak of it, we will decide what to do about this cougar.” But for now their priorities were much more immediate. “I will do whatever you need me to, Lucani. What is it that you need of me?”

The two go back and forth about the situation, taking about Thuringwethil as if she weren't there between them. She tries to follow the flow of conversation but she only gets frustrated. A low growl slips from her muzzle and she jerks her body forward like she might stand but she can't get proper footing. Not having lifted herself very high from the ground, she accepts defeat rather quickly if only because she feels safe enough in her territory.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not right here," she warns, flustered and frustrated, and she tucks one of her paws between her chest and the ground. She doesn't need Gyda to help keep her awake, she is more than capable.

The earlier attempt at standing didn't do her shoulder any favors, the mixture Lucani applied cracking from the movement. It tugs at her fur and the dizziness quickly settles back in her head. Wavering back and forth between the tiredness pulling the fringes of her mind and the burst of energy that she doesn't need anything at all turns her stomach. Thuringwethil's mouth waters and she smacks her lips a couple of times as drool pools from the side of her mouth. For a moment she forgets about the frustration, taking in a strained breath to keep her stomach settled for as long as possible.

The healer responded with a definite nod to Gyda — they would not allow Thuringwethil to drift off to an early death, though Gyda's insistence was more commanding, whereas Lucani's was simply the duty of a medic. She couldn't pretend she didn't care for Thuringwethil too, though. Their relationship was very professional, but if she passed away it would not simply be the death of a leader.

Before she had a chance to answer either of the pale female's questions, the darker one spoke up. And despite the sheer soberness of the situation, Lucani very nearly smiled. Sometimes it was hard to forget that Thuringwethil, with all her size and majesty, was also a proud youngster quite capable of pouting. Lucani didn't smile, of course, always knowing when respect and understanding was due. You're right of course, she said soothingly to Thuringwethil. Lucani stood, finally finished with the goosegrass. You won't bleed out now, but you must stay very still so not to undo the catching of the goosegrass, she told her. Gyda, please stay with her while I fetch some herbs from the cache. I recommend using moss and tongue to gently clean her wounds. Lucani got the faint impression that she maybe didn't have to tell Gyda this, and so didn't elaborate on how best to utilise the moss.

With that, she departed smoothly and swiftly, intending to fetch some excellent remedies. Only the best for their Heda.

Thuringwethil commands the viking queen's attention when she warns them to cease speaking about her as if she wasn't not there, as if she was not listening, when, clearly, she was. Lucani was quick to soothe Thuringwethil which irked Gyda slightly: Thuringwethil was Heda not a child that needed to be reminded she was right. Respect for the older woman, and the need of her skills to ensure that Thuringwethil lived through her wounds kept Gyda's tongue stilled. “I assumed you were drifting in and out of consciousness,” Gyda addressed Thuringwethil, “it does not matter, there will be time for discussions later.” Time to decide whether it was a big enough threat to gather up the pack for an assault or to let sleeping dogs lie. For now, her concern was much more immediate. “Of course Lucani,” Gyda responded to the older woman with a small dip of her head in gratitude. 

That much, she could handle. She did not have Lucani nor even Thistle's experience having forsaken her desire to learn the art of healing: it was not a decision she often regretted except in situations such as this — and yet there was little reason to regret. Lucani was capable and Gyda trusted her to ensure that their Heda lived. Once Gyda ensured Lucani had departed to search for her medicines Gyda moved closer to Heda, following a methodical ministration of Lucani's orders dutifully.

Lucani is quick to correct herself and she shifts to first look at her and then shifts to Gyda when she explains her purpose. Slate eyes narrow slight but she doesn’t address either with anything verbal. She doesn’t try to get up again and remains still on the ground, taking Lucani’s advice as she begins to explain the next few steps but she disappears before she can get a word in. Whether she moved too quickly for Thuringwethil to respond, or the young leader’s acknowledgment delayed too much, she isn’t sure.

She turns to Gyda then as she puts pressure on her shoulder. Her head aches and she struggles to keep her eyes open; drifting in and out of consciousness isn’t a far assumption but Thuringwethil is sure she’s able to keep herself awake. What could a few minutes hurt anyway? 

Quietly, Thuringwethil growls when Gyda pushes down too hard; partly forgetting who is laying at her side and caring for her. The reminder it is her queen keeps her from snapping, even if her jaws are already spring loaded for a future warning. She settles for a low growl rolling around in her chest, eyes closed, and eventually she lets her head rest on her outstretched paws.

There were various medical caches stored deep within the territory, far from the borders, in various scattered locations that would be convenient to the pack wolves. They weren't hidden — all members of Sleeping Dragon were welcome to them — and some were not so much caches as growths. After all, the best way to keep a healthy store of any plant was to let it grow and keep it flourishing. It was to one such thriving spot that Lucani ventured now, calm but urgent. It was not a pretty area, for the Winter still had a hold on Sleeping Dragon, but the herbs she sought were taller than when last she'd seen them. She picked a few, and was careful but not stingy. Only the best would do for their Heda.

I think we are skipping Gyda from here on out but if needed, we can tag her. Perhaps we could wrap it up in the next post or two?

Gyda eases some of the pressure but it doesn't do much to settle her. It does, however, keep her distracted enough that she's unable to fall asleep. The constant back and forth of being able to do it versus just wanted to go to sleep until it's over puts a strain on her. She doesn't have the energy to think much about it while her head throbs and her stomach gurgles, threatening to bring up whatever contents are inside.

They do not speak much for the remainder of the time, waiting in silence for Lucani's return.

Thanks for the thread, both. <3 Last post from me!

She returned swiftly, holding gently in her jaws a small selection of fresh early-season plants that would aid in infection and speed up the healing process. Lucani had picked these two properties over total pain-relief, as she knew Thuringwethil cared little for pain and would prefer clarity of mind and a speedy recovery so she could get back on her paws as soon as possible. Similarly, while she did retrieve the best of her cache for Thuringwethil, she didn't retrieve it all, even though she could have. For she made an educated guess that despite the importance of the Heda, neither Queen would want their healer to drain the cache.

When she returned, silently glad to find Thuringwethil in a more responsive state, likely thanks to Gyda's attention, Lucani inspected the makeshift stitches. Gyda had cleaned the wounds delicately. They were looking good. Please bear with me another ten minutes or so, Thuringwethil. I'd like to patch you up a bit more, then with the help of Gyda and myself you'll be able to move slowly to your den for a good rest. Unless either Alpha objected, the plan would be put in motion without any great rush. Thuringwethil's condition was no longer critical — now it was almost just as important to take their time. If her wounds opened again, the results would not be pretty. But if they held fast, the young fighter would be on track to healing well... and warring another day.