The Sentinels I made it in my mind because

Ah, back in the Teekons. 

Dash had made a life out of traveling the Pacific coastline, venturing north in the summers and south in the winters. He had a particular fondness for this stretch that meandered through the Teekon Wilds. They were by far the most beautiful and intriguing lands he had come across in his travels; it was in these wilds that he had come closest to settling down.. one, two, three times now? 

His experienced eye located the game trail that snaked through the Sentinels. It was a trail that had brought him success over the years. He lowered his nose to the disturbed underbrush and caught the scent of a coast-dwelling boar. He smiled, slinking into the copse.

the sentinels command kjalarr's attention once more; keen eye kept upon the medium sized herd whose movements he tracks, having decided without council from any others ( a mistake, probably ) that the sentinels were the bay's primary hunting grounds. the soft snowfall agitates the budding arthritis in his left hind leg, the slight limp as he favors his right is more noticeable; unable to mask the grating ache. still, he persists.

soon, his path crosses with the scent of a stranger, and beneath that: a relatively fresh scent of boar. relief, that it is not the herd the stranger pursues, followed by curiosity. kjalarr makes to intercept, alerting the stranger to his presence ( if his footfalls did not already do so, uneven as they were ) with a low chuff as to not startle stranger or quarry.

It was not the herd Dash tracked, but the scent of a lone straggler. It would likely be a large, fearless brute of a hog if it had forged its path so far from the safety of the herd. Dash's pulse quickened at the thought of it, and he pressed forward eagerly. 

Movement in the trees drew his attention, and his darting gaze landed on the other wolf. He grinned an offered a wave of his tail. It was a wordless invitation to join in the hunt. The help would be appreciated, if the boar was as fearsome as Dash imagined. He continued on.

Eventually Dash came upon it, snorting and shuffling through the underbrush. The hog cut an intimidating silhouette against the muted sunlight that streamed in from the edge of the copse. Dash glanced around, wondering if the other man had joined the pursuit.

though kjalarr isn't able to immediately discern how he feels about a loner hunting on the bay's proposed hunting grounds, he is not of the mind to fuss about it. one boar missing would hardly put a dent in their food sources — and even then, if he joined the loner on his hunt the reasonable thought was that they would split the haul. though not the hunter he'd been when he had both eyes and no blossoming arthritis he is nevertheless still fearsome and determined and it is likely what has kept him alive for so long.

his silent acceptance comes in the form of following at a close pace; willing to let himself be led, for it is the stranger's hunt.

they came across it soon thereafter, and kjalarr studies it with a keen cerulean eye: trying to look for weaknesses or any signs of illness that might give the pair an advantage.

Dash wasn't much of a planner. He did not give the prey much scrutiny, other than to judge its size and vitality against his own and that of the stranger. After some very cursory consideration, he decided it was a battle he could probably win, and he charged. This was how Dash operated in all areas of life: make a move, and deal with the consequences later. 

The boar was not expecting the attack, and so Dash began with the advantage. The pig stumbled heavily upon impact, and Dash pulled it down as his teeth connected. Blood and flesh tore, and the boar screamed. Its hooves flailed in the air, catching Dash on his right flank and ribcage. The hunter yelped piteously, but he was not otherwise deterred. Taking advantage of the moment that the boar took to find its feet, he darted for the throat. 

His teeth connected, but at a great price. The boar twisted into him at the last moment, catching its tusk on Dash's left shoulder. The hunter pulled away with a howl of pain. Favoring his wounded shoulder, he hopped backward, putting a safe distance between himself and the hog. If the stranger wanted to step up and finish it off, he was more than welcome. The boar's lifeblood coursed from the wound Dash had opened in its neck, glisteningly darkly upon its chest in the halflight of the copse.

as kjalarr takes his time, summoning nigh seven years of learned patience, his younger companion rushes the boar. a soft hiss of disapproval leaves the northman but it goes unheard in the scuffle between the two. for this, kjalarr stays back; knowing that he would only get in the way as boar and stranger tusseled.

for a moment, kjalarr was impressed with what he thought was a rash decision, when it appeared that the stranger might single-pawed take down the boar. Freyr might have tipped the scales of the hunt in the stranger's favor.

a heartbeat later and kjalarr can hear the splice of the boar's tusk on flesh, the howl of the stranger's pain. stupid boy, kjalarr huffs under his breath, unceremoniously. a roll of his eyes is given, though with only one good eye, it likely lost it's effect.

one way or the other, they would make a meal of this boar: it would not survive its wounds for long and kjalarr hated to let the effort go to waste, especially as freyr had called for the stranger's blood as said stranger hobbles back. the northman steps forth, drawing in a soft breath. freyr, blessaðu þessa veiði — he murmurs the low, rasping prayer in his native tongue; eyes closing for a moment.

when it opens, he focuses good eye on the boar, huffing and whimpering with pain. with the worst of the work done, kjalarr's job was easy ...so long as he could avoid those swinging tusks. he surges forward and nips: at it's hocks, finding that its energy was waning and the swing of its tusks was slower; clumsier.

when kjalarr was content that he would not be skewered as his companion, he lunges for the torn flesh of its throat and clamps down; feeling the familiar slip of life. a lone cry and the boar collapses, finally, to the ground.

the crunch of bones beneath kjalarr's jaws was only to ensure and he lets go, salmon pink tongue drawling across his jowls stained crimson with the boar's blood. come, kjalarr calls. eat your fill.

to give him room, kjalarr takes a step back, a soft hiss of pain leaving him as the ache in his arthritic leg now a low throbbing stab. though there were advantages to getting old, there were certainly downfalls to it as well. you should come to my bay, let one of my medics take a look at that wound. an offer: though kjalarr was not the one to twist his leg if he refused.

The stranger stepped in, and Dash followed his movements with interest. He moved forward when the boar went still, and he feasted eagerly at the stranger's invitation. This part made it worth the pain. Worth the injury, even. Nothing hit the spot quite like fresh boar. 

The man spoke again. "Your bay? Your medics?" Dash echoed, garbling the words with his mouth full. Had he said medics, like.. plural? He swallowed, then asked, "You lead a pack then?" He nodded thoughtfully. He wasn't really in a position to turn down the offer of medical care. 

One more swallow, and he scooted himself away from the kill. "If your medics can get me patched up, they can have the rest of my portion." He nodded toward the boar.

essentially, yes, kjalarr replies. we are still in the process of bolstering our numbers. he clarifies; meaning: they are in the process of forming still. nevertheless, they are his even if their village was yet small and not enough to form an actual pack. the offer was there: hidden in the subliminal tone between words. for a moment, kjalarr considers as he takes a bite. it is a fair trade. he determines; though admittedly he isn't sure how he's going to get it to them. the stranger was in no shape to help him move the carcass.

hoping he or they are not too far away to hear him, kjalarr tips his head back and calls for @tove and @cyrena, assuming it was better to bring one ( or both ) of them here rather than try to corral dashiell to the bay while injured.

It would be Tove who arrived, first at least.

The scent of blood simmered in the winter air. Matched with the call of Kjalarr. She would waste no time in arriving, despite her stocky physique doing it's damnedest to hold her back.

It was not the blood of their leader that tainted the air. Rather it was a stranger, wounded on the shoulder near a now slain boar. An impressive sight. Truly.

A brief nod to her leader before she set eyes back upon the stranger.

We'll need to get you cleaned up, She huffed upon her arrival, voice that of a tense nurse. Tell me of the pain.

Undeniably it would hurt even more when she finally set to work on it, but for now she needed to know the start.

tagging @Cyrena again, in case the tag failed. jump in whenever!

The man mentioned he was collecting followers, but made no outright offer to Dash. Probably because Dash didn't look like he would be all that much help, injured and bleeding everywhere. Dash figured he probably looked like a liability. 

"Er... So, I'm a much better fisher than I am a pigcatcher. Boar just tastes better, you know?" If Kjalarr had spent much time roaming the coastline, he would most certainly have seen evidence of Dash's fish traps dug into the beaches. 

Dash might have pled his case further, if the healer hadn't shown up in that moment. 

The healer appeared to be a smaller, more feminine version of Kjalarr. Maybe they were related? 

"Oh, sure," Dash responded, happy to go get himself cleaned off, if that was what she wanted. "With this sort of thing, I usually just wash it out in the sea..?" 

Oh, the pain? "It's okay," Dash insisted, trying the tough-guy routine right off the bat. He shrugged, and his shoulder throbbed painfully. "Ow." Idiot.  

"Well, honestly, it's getting worse.." he admitted. With his adrenaline dissipating, it was really starting to hurt. "Son of a bitch gored me pretty good." He grinned apologetically.

A call was sent through the air. It held her name within.

Like most times, Cyrena was quick to answer.. though, in this case, perhaps not enough so.

Upon arriving to the scene, it seemed that she was the last. 

Kjalarr. A woman, who she assumed to be Tove based upon the provided description days prior. And finally, a strange man. Both of the latter she had yet to meet.

An iron tang flooded the pale woman's nostrils, immediately setting the eyes upon its origin. 

Like the other healer had done, Cyrena offered a respectful gesture towards Kjalarr before approaching to assess the stranger.

For a silent moment, she stared. Any would have thought she had froze in time by the way her posture was held. She was only attempting to gather a quick physical image. Nothing more.

With a gentle chuff and flick of her audit, the woman requested permission to near. If the stranger allowed, Cyrena would gravitate towards the shoulder.

Sharp objects can often impale parts of the body that can not be so easily healed. If they go unnoticed, permanent damage could ensue; things like paralysis or perhaps temporary physical impairments. She explained, finding it relaxing to the mind to go over the details of her examination.

Reaching out a paw, she felt along the shoulder, then down towards the flank. Tell me if this sensations feels right. If you can feel nothing, then it is possible that a nerve has been punctured. If it tingles more than you think it should, then one could have even been slightly pinched. But if all is well, there is no more than muscle to train and a bloody abrasion to patch.

Tipping her snout forward, Cyrena offered a calm, questioning glance, waiting to hear her patient's report.

feel free to skip kja. if he's needed just tag me! <3

indeed, kjalarr hums in quiet contemplation as dashiell mentions he's not much of a boar huntsman. high reward brings high risk. the balance, kjalarr knew: was in deciding if the risk was worth it. when the healing women are done with you, we can talk some more. if you wish it, there is a place for you in the bay. he makes the offer in full now, giving the younger man time to mull it over as tove first and then cyrena appear.

the northman moves back to not crowd them, letting them to their work — doing his best to stay out of the way while overseeing. he does not inherently think dashiell will lash out at either woman but nevertheless, he keeps a keen eye out all the same.

A new woman appeared, also cloaked in white. Well, at least it would be easy to tell who all belonged to this bay pack, if they were all white wolves. 

She would find no resistance from Dash as she moved forward. He didn't have an aggressive bone in his body (unless you were a boar, that is), and he'd had quite a bit of experience with being healed, given his penchant for finding trouble. She spoke a bunch of healer gobbledegook, which Dash found difficult to follow. 

"Um, uh.. none of the above," he finally told her, because she seemed to be waiting for an answer. "Just really fuckin' hurts." She wanted him to describe the sensation? She was just like the other healer, asking him to "tell about the pain" or whatever. How the fuck do you describe pain? It was just.. Ow! "Uh, like throbbing?" He tried, giving it his best shot as he glanced between the pair of women. 

Dash nodded at the man as he spoke his offer, although the gesture would appear fairly distracted. The pain was really starting to get to him. "Ah-- I 'preciate that, sir, ah.. I'll def'nitely come around. Name's Dash," he wheezed out, wincing as he spoke.

skippable/power play as you please <3

The other healer all but crashed onto the scenes. Swooping in without concern for whatever work Tove may have started.

So she would peel off from the man's side, there was no need for two healers to contend over his wounds, and Cyrena seemed far more inclined to handle this.

Tove would only be here as support.

At least Dash had a place to go now: somewhere with healers, where he could lay low and recover. This was not the worst he'd been injured, and often he had far fewer resources available when he managed to injure himself. He was lucky he had run into the Bay leader. 

The healers would complete their work, and in time, the group would disperse.