Ravensblood Forest The white owl in the belfry sits.

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During her vigil upon the Sound, Stryx grew restless. She was not accustomed to being cooped up anywhere for long periods of time and she did not particularly enjoy it; and with the patient stable, she felt she could give the little family some space. Stryx could have told Kaertok where she was going, but she didn't have anything specific in mind; so instead she muttered something along the lines of, Going to stretch my legs, maybe I'll find something medicinal to help her, and dispersed.

Stryx climbed to the top of the rise and cut through the forest. From there the fields beckoned, and as she crossed among their grasses she thought she smelled something foul. As she followed her nose Stryx came across a drag trail in the grass, and it led towards the cliffs to the west. Her curiosity was piqued. She cast a glance towards the coast and weighed the dangers of investigating, then set off again.

Something had been deposited in the grass and left to rot. A scavenger of some kind must have picked up on the scent in the days following, grabbed it, and taken it away—for there was no strange object to be found, only a continued trail that Stryx doggedly traced. Up the rise, across the plateau, then down in to the thick forest.

It was here that she made her discovery: a tattered bundle of once-flesh, torn to shreds. The remains of what she presumed was a fetus, lingering inside. There wasn't much left; the grisly sight turned her stomach immediately. The soil around the bundle was well marked, she noticed—perhaps a raccoon or a badger had come across it and decided to dispose of the remains while enjoying the caloric value.

A deep sigh expresses Stryx's silent empathy for the mother back at the grotto, but she sets to work again: digging in to the soil at the base of the trees, fashioning a grave that would be deep enough not to attract further disturbance.

Unaware that Stryx had slipped from the den, Raleska awoke to unnerving darkness.

At first, she assumed it was simply her vision taking time to adjust. As the minutes passed, she saw little clarity in her vision -- clouds seemed to obscure along her sight-lines.

There was a squirming besides her -- with a start, Raleska realized for perhaps the most lucid stretch of time, all that had transpired.

Feeling enormously alone despite the lives that stirred besides her, Raleska stared off towards the distant opening of the mouth while above her, somewhere, Stryx was disposing of a small bundle of life that had never seen the light of day, or known pain.

No sweet words were spared for the child whose life had ended before it could truly begin. Stryx was not a heartless creature, she tended to the grave with care, but she was also lacking faith in a higher power. What was dead would stay dead; this little life had been disposable. It would be missed until it was forgotten utterly, and, she supposed that was a sad thought, just not one that would affect her.

Once the dirt had settled, she placed a sprig of something green upon it gingerly, then turned from it. The forest would take these remains and devour them. They would come to life in another way—a sapling maybe, or a patch of flowers netted in the shadows. Life would go on. The woman tread back the way she had come: through forest, down the ridge, ambling across the barrows, until the taste of salt returned to the air.

She had not washed the soil from between her toes. Dirt spoiled the grizzle of her limbs. Her body was aching from all the travel in such a short time; but the return to the Sound was faster than the initial departure, and she came to the mouth of the grotto with the midday heat ebbing. The sounds of movement inside told her that the woman was awake, perhaps even mobile—which was a good sign.

Stryx poked her head in to the grotto's yawning mouth, her eyes tired but friendly. Good afternoon, she quietly offered to the new mother, speaking softly so as not to wake her newborns.

Raleska was unused to being a vessel of life for another being; she squirmed as often as her babes, trying to find some comfort in something as uncomfortable as nursing. After a while she gave up, and was relieved to see Stryx's features slowly materialize from the haze that was the midday sun's glare against the Grotto mouth. It took her several seconds to see Stryx's limbs were darkened with dirt; it did not take Raleska much to realize what had just transpired.

Dark. Her lips twisted in a grim line. "Afternoon." She replied back, trying for some mix between "I'm grateful" and "I'm bitter". "Why did you save me?" Raleska suddenly prompted; if it had been her, she was not so sure she would have gone out of her way to help a total stranger..

The new mother greeted her. Stryx moved in to the mouth of the grotto and then slowly onward, to one of the small pools of trapped water, before which she sprawled and began to dip her paws for cleaning. The water wasn't as cold as she expected. The salt would help to scour the mud away.

Why did you save me? Came that voice again. The voice itself was unreadable to Stryx, who had spent many days alone between her patients. Their attitudes varied in the aftermath. At least Raleska had enough wits about her to be concerned, she thought.

Her answer was not immediate. Stryx worked at the mud on her forelimbs, working the mud away and watching as the cool silver-cream of her fur began to take shape again. She spoke over the work: Because I could. It was one response of many she had become accustomed to parroting; but that didn't make it a lie. I have the training. You needed help. I could help.

Because I could. There were a lot of things of Raleska could do, but it didn't mean she would. She watched the healer rinse the clay from her thin limbs in the pool, her expression caught between dubious and cold. In her eyes it was not much of an answer, but the last thing she wanted to do was piss off the person that she owed her life to. Nothing like making the doctor regret saving its patient, right?

She was tight lipped for a moment, considering a delicate response. When she found none, she shifted the topic instead. "Where did you learn to heal?"

Whether her answer was satisfactory or not, Stryx didn't really care. She didn't notice any discomfort in Raleska either, as she was busy cleaning herself. The disquiet was broken with a question that veered the conversation in a new direction and the physician's ears slanted, her jaw setting momentarily with tension.

It was a long story. One she did not want to delve too deeply in to; it wasn't a good story, one with a valiant protagonist and an easily vilified opposing force. She shrugged her silver shoulders, turning to regard Raleska with a guarded expression on her face.

Various places, but mostly with a harem of spinsters. To say she sounded bitter was an understatement. There was bitterness there, but also a chill, as if the frigidity of her tone might warn the new mother away from prying further. By no fault of her own Raleska had touched upon a storied history that Stryx kept nicely tucked away from the world. Always had an affinity for it.

There was no missing the change in mood in the room; Raleska caught the tightening of Stryx's jaw. She looked away politely, almost apologetically -- it had not been her intention to dredge up bad memories.

Stryx's voice was tinged with something tangible. Raleska believed it might be resentment. "You do have an affinity for it." She offered, trying for a lightness in her tone that belied the frigid breeze of austerity she had just felt raze the room. "We don't have to talk about it. I don't want to talk about my past, either. Where do you live now?"

It took Raleska's calmed words to make Stryx realize how she'd sounded, how sharp and defensive she had become in that moment, and her own expression softened. The hazy memories of her youth surfaced then, and she watched the ripples in the pool as they distorted her reflection - the mud dissipating within, like a scrying pool. Where do you live now? she asked.

Wherever. I have not pledged myself to any group for... months, years, I lost track. Her shoulders rose slightly as she sighed, trying to banish the faces of those crones from her mind, the memory of their judgmental voices. It was the past, it did not matter. It shaped her, but it was no longer important - or so her mental mantra went. I try to share my knowledge where I can. Either through helping others like yourself, or by teaching. It isn't much of a life, but I enjoy the freedom.

On the contrary, Raleska thought it was an impressive life, not a meager one. She missed the days (had she ever even had them, under the harsh thumb of her mother?) where she could roam freely. These days, no matter how much she ran, she never could outrun her demons.

She didn't mind they were talking about something else now. Let the past be buried, never dug up again. The present was what mattered -- life was what mattered. And you were not living life if you were always looking behind you. "Have you taught many? I can't be the first one you've saved."

You were not living life if you were always looking behind you. If only Stryx were privy to the woman's thoughts, as she would agree, although it did not matter if someone was helping or hindering their fellow wolf in Stryx's eyes, as she had many things to run from too. She kept on moving and used her tutelage and her pledge as the reason for never settling down, but the truth was more sinister. She lived her life feeling pulled in two directions and knew it was wise to keep her wits sharp.

They come and go, but no, not many. The woman asserts with a small shrug. I have helped more than I have taught. I do not have the patience to be a teacher despite what my vows require— and just like that, it feels as if she is back among the crones with the other students, talking to someone who knows the life. It catches Stryx off-guard for a moment and she freezes, becoming tight-lipped, and reminds herself that one of those precious vows was one of silence.

She recovers quickly, and while her tone is a little bit more barbed Stryx means well. You are healing well. I will fetch you something fresh to eat, if you have the appetite. And with that she's extricating herself from the conversation (but keeps an ear out for anything that may delay her).

Raleska too, could understand the helplessness one felt when their life was being torn in two separate directions. Like anything, eventually that parchment would tear -- and in which direction would she prevail?

A good life? Or a damned life?

She shuddered, noticing a change in the room -- a change in Stryx, even. Raleska didn't push, she didn't ask after that pause -- but she did recognize that the healer was now diverting to a new topic, offering to provide a meal should she acquiesce.

Raleska gave a thin smile of encouragement. "Sure - I could use the food, but we'll split it, okay?" She didn't want the healer to go without her fair share of food either.  If she had been in better condition, she might have offered to help Stryx hunt - but at this point her energies were low, and she got the sense the healer might wish to be alone for a while with whatever thoughts ate at her.

Even as her patient agreed, Stryx was resigned to her duty. She would find something fresh and return to Raleska's side with it, giving her the majority of the portions, eating just enough and picking at the remains to satisfy the urge to share. She understood that wolves were communal creatures, sociable, dependent on one another. It was not intended as an affront to Raleska by trying to avoid a meal with her; she merely wanted the choice parts to go to the woman who needed them the most.

But she nodded, turning and departing without another comment. The sounds of her steps upon the sand dwindled as she began her hunt alone.