Firefly Glen Ma Zasush Dasse; Its just a flesh wound

For @Praimfaya

The lands here were dangerous, something she had been warned about. That she was far closer to the edge of her God's reach than anyone had known was discovered when she was exploring the new region and the ground began to shake and tremble beneath her. The prey took off running and as she began to follow, a warning sign from Vezhuf sent a herd of deer stampeding into her path and a kick sent her rolling. It had been an accident, she knew this in her blood and so she stayed down watching with wide eyes as the herd ran off without another look her way. She panted softly and huddled down eyes wide and frantic as the ground continued to shake, feeling as if it were the end of the world before it fell silent. She stood up and took off in a daze, only falling to the ground as she noticed the fur of her shoulder was oily black as if wet. 


It was if seeing it set her shoulder aflame. The wound was not bad but it was long and wide enough to ooze blood when she walked. She hissed and growled softly, pawing at the ground as she tried to stay silent while adjusting to the pain. "Ma Zasush Dasse.." she whispered to herself and sat up, licking at her wound slowly and with pressure to clean it out and hopefully slow the bleeding.

Translation in hover

praimfaya ventures further than she normally goes, figuring that sticking to broken antler fen and lake rodney was only going to get her so far. though, there is a soft note of surprise to find that despite her prior tendencies to venture out and about she is loathe to venture too far from what would become roangeda. nevertheless, the diplomat-in-training knows that it's necessary. word wouldn't get out if she didn't give voice to it and she couldn't hunker down in the fen and expect wolves to just stumble their way. she would see to her destiny, she would see to blodreina's dying wish.

the scent of blood draws her from her trailing thoughts and she snaps back to attention like a soldier's commanding officer that had just walked into the mess hall. her ears taper back as she thinks she hears something but the scent of blood — and wolf — is unmistakable and it is her compassion — that which did not come from her mother — that tugs her in the injured woman's direction. it did not take praimfaya long to draw upon the smoky-grey woman whom sat licking at her wound.

hei. praimfaya calls to her softly. are you alright? a stupid question, perhaps. the woman was bleeding after all ...but praimfaya wanted to ask anyway despite that she had no medicinal knowledge to offer her in a way of actual help.

A young voice greets her softly in a foreign language, not Common and not Duthrika either yet she knows that it is a greeting by the tone. She paused and studied her wound for a moment, checking to ensure she wouldn't dribble blood everywhere during a conversation and then turning to the young girl.  "Small wound. Need mud. Moss." She said forcing herself into common seeing as she was beginning to fear it was going to be impossible to live without it. She studied the girl for a moment and sighed softly, ears twitching back as she gave a slow wag of her tail seeming embarrassed "Help search?" She asked softly. "Pool" She said gesturing to herself, unable to bring herself to let go of her homeland enough to speak her true name freely.

moss. mud. praimfaya isn't sure what either of those things will do for her wound, but she is no medic. even so, the stranger doesn't give the impression that she is uncertain those are things that she needs. regardless, while praimfaya thinks she can help with the collection of moss — for surely that is plentiful and easy enough to carry — she isn't sure how she's meant to transport mud. sha, and then she offers a common equivalent: sure.

pool, the woman tells her then as praimfaya's frostbound silver gaze studies the earthen floor of the glen for moss. though it strikes praimfaya as a strange name ( though she's hardly one to judge ) she is left with the assumption that it is, in fact, the woman's name. praimfaya. she offers in return, simply. absent all of her titles. there felt no need for them here in this situation. i can help with the moss but i'm not sure how to collect mud, she admits. can you walk? if it was a small wound, as she claimed, then surely it shouldn't present too much of an issue.

There was the strange language she spoke and her eyes brightened "Sha" She repeated the word curiously as it rolled from her tongue and then after a few moments pause of figuring out the right words in common she asked "What language you speak?". She was curious about the girl's homeland, for she had the most exotic name she had ever heard and spoke a language unknown to her. She loved to collect knknowledge, it was her skill point. To document everything inside of her mind and use it to help instead of using her fangs and body like she had been trained to. The girl said she could help on the moss end and she nodded, unsure if the mud would be a great idea when she wasnt sure of a place to wash it off relatively soon. She had already begun to stand up as Praimfaya asked if she could and tested her weight the wound stinging and welling up with a tiny amount of blood with each step but not looking too terrible. "Anha liz ayyey gi yith" she knew she wouldn't be understood and simply stated "Always" as she began to limp around, searching the bottoms of trees and flipping rocks over to look for clumps of moss.

at this point, praimfaya is used to being asked about 'trig' for it has long since become expected knowledge that not many in these wilds speak it. for, as far as blodreina — and thus praimfaya — knows most of what was left of drageda had fled to the other 'geda's to follow whomever stepped up to become heda. it is called trigedasleng, praimfaya tells her. it is ...like common but a — how did her mother put it? bastardized version of it. still, it is praimfaya's preferred method of communication though she does foresee herself using it anytime soon. she would teach henwen, as her mother had offered, and she teaches ingram phrases and words when she thinks of them but without her mother she is left forced to largely communicate in common.

praimfaya pauses to peer over her shoulder as the woman rises to her paws, watching as pool tests her weight upon her injured leg before her gaze — and most of her attention — returns to the task at hand. always, praimfaya repeats softly under her breath. that is a good attitude to have, she comments as she digs through underbrush in search of moss. it would be easier, she thinks, if they were in a bog. you'd fit in well at roangeda. a compliment, and a seized opportunity.

she roots around some more, trying to find damp ground, padding a few more feet away. what language do you speak? praimfaya asks then in return, the strange words the older woman spoke prior to her 'always' in common not having fallen under praimfaya's notice.

Trigedasleng. 

The word was so strange it was nearly incomprehensible to her but she began to immediately try and repeat it, slowly wrapping her tongue around the word and managing to only slightly butcher it. She wagged as most of the rest of what the girl said went in one ear and out the rest except the word bastard which caused her to pause, flicking an ear and repeating it softly and deciding to ask later for a definition of that word. She falls silent for a while as she roots around not giving an immediate answer to Praimfaya as she focused on the whiff of mossy stench she got from the ground and tracked it down. She pawed at the moss until she got it hooked on her nails and carefully dragged it off the ground. She gave Praimfaya a smile as the girl appreciated her attitude and sat down "It help me survive. Words have power" she said simply and then repeated the word in her language "Athmuvezir " so she would perhaps tuck it away inside her mind. She began to gently stretch the moss out and flatten it as she spoke "Duthrika. It belongs to my people. It is simple language" She spoke slower in her lilted accent, choosing each word carefully and struggling in some places. 


Finally she managed to get the moss separated enough to cover the wound and pack it. "Praimfaya help place?" She asked ears shifting back as she knew she would not be able to pack the wound well enough on her own. "Roangeda...what is?" She asked her tail swaying as she hoped to continue the conversation with this intelligent girl.

sha, praimfaya agrees. they do. and then after a beat supplies, though it hadn't been asked: we have a similar saying: ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim. it means 'get knocked down, get back up. she scratches a bit of the earth though her hope of stumbling across moss is declining. was it arrogant to claim that there was no place for weakness in roangeda? certainly. did that mean praimfaya didn't feel that way? hell no. strength was the ability to face the challenges and obstacles life threw in your path and not letting it bring you to your knees. life was cruel ...but so too could they be. with a supportive kru ...anything was survivable from the death of a beloved mother to the anger of the earth.

the woman has more luck with in uncovering moss than praimfaya, whom had more or less given up — proof that she has no business ever trying to learn medicine or anything of the sort. her path shifts back towards pool and hesitates only briefly before doing her best, despite her inexperience, to help pack the moss tightly into the woman's wound. roangeda is my home. we are a fledgling pack. i will be it's wanheda, it's commander when i come of age. for now, i am it's worlida. it was my mother's vision for me and with her death i feel it is my duty to continue what she has begun. praimfaya explains as she patiently and unhurriedly applies more moss to pool's wound.

She held still as Praimfaya applied the moss, wincing just a bit as the moss pressed into a sensitive spot but making no move to pull away. She was silent as the girl talked about Roangeda, explaining it was just starting out and that when she was older she would lead it. She made a low sound of interest, impressed with how mature Praimfaya was for her age. From appearance Pool assumed she was probably under a year but maturity...she'd seen grown wolves who could do with some lessons from this kid. She smiled faintly and once the moss was all gone she shifted and rolled her shoulder, lifting her leg and then setting down as she tested how she could move without disturbing the moss. It seemed well enough in place and so she turned her focus back on the pale girl "You are smart...good Wanheda when grown" she said kindly but what was more she believed it. "Where is Roangeda? I settle before Aheshke, when too cold for lone life" she spoke painfully slowly, struggling to form a sentence with the little knowledge she held of Common. She knew enough to hold conversations but not enough to sound as intelligent as she really was. Pool gave Praimfaya a tentative smile "No promise...but maybe I will come if path leads" she felt the need to throw that out there, she wasnt one to toss around empty promises and giving hopes of loyalty where she wasnt certain there would be any.

i think we can probably wrap up with your post? :-)

though pool's words are taken as a compliment praimfaya accepts them with a low murmured it does not come without a price. to be wise beyond her years. to be a good commander. all of it has demanded a hefty sacrifice from her: blodreina. praimfaya has paid for these traits ( and these compliments ) with her mother's lifeforce. thus, she does not feel that she has the right to take them for granted by offering a simple 'thanks' ( as she perhaps could've ). they are appreciated but not in a way that makes her feel boastful. they're appreciated quietly. privately. roangeda is south of here, settled between a woodland and a mountain. though there is plenty of ample no-man's land ( and a lake on haunted woods' side ) between both. her directions feel a bit vague to her, as they have every time she's responded to that question, despite the gesture of her muzzle in roangeda's direction ( working on giving detailed instructions is on her list ).

that is fair, praimfaya accepts with a soft smile. even if it does not, i hope your path crosses with mine again. she offers earnestly. if you think you'll be ok on your own i should probably get back. before my dad starts to worry — is what goes unsaid.

The child's words were true, the truest thing she thought she had ever heard come from a young mouth and yet it was also a sad lesson to have to learn so young. She contemplated adding to it, that everything came at a cost, to get something you wanted you had to give up something you already had but she sensed a sadness in the girl and held her tongue, kindly deciding that perhaps it was not her place or the time to bring any more possible worried to the young future leader's mind. The directions left her with only a vague idea of where to look but she had all the time in the world to do so and hoped that by the time she was ready for a pack, if she chose Roangeda that it would be there and be marked so she could find it. She nodded it and her eyes followed the motion of direction, which she decided would be her path when she had rested for the night and her shoulder wasnt so sore. "Hajas Praimfaya" She said lowering her chin to her chest in the way that showed respect in her homeland. "Safe travel. T...thank you" the words felt odd falling from her tongue, the common words of gratitude she was taught on her path to these lands. There was no "thank you" in her home but she thought it sweet how the outside world had many many words to display a wide array of things. As the girl began to leave she stood and moved toward the edge of the clearing, laying down to rest against a tree and closing her eyes. 

I PP'd her leaving I hope that's okay