Northstar Vale my mind, my gun, they comfort me

@Witchhazel first, then @Asterr whenever you think it's appropriate! PP on Witch, let me know if I should tweak.

Starbuck did not wait long the night of the fire. When none responded she turned away, tears in her eyes. She was all that remained. Her and this child, this miserable wretch, burned beyond recognition. Starbuck found herself relatively uninjured, save for the severe burns to her paws and face. There was pain, yes, pain beyond that she had ever experienced. But there was much to be thankful for. She had fled with her life, and with that of the child. She fled to the mountains, where the wind and the stars would speak loudest to her. She would need their help to save the child.

Only in the light of day was Starbuck able to identify the girl as Witchhazel, and in putting a name to the girl a fresh wave of sorrow. She remembered meeting the girl, whole and hale. She remembered the Sentinels, a safe haven. She did not remember Deirdre, for the grief threatened to overhwlem her, and how could she continue then?

Days later found them in the mountains. Her paws protested each step and her neck ached each night from carrying Witchhazel, and her heart was heavy with loss and with the knowledge that she might still lose the girl. 

She came upon a vale as the light began to wane, and made for the cover of the bare trees. She found shelter beneath an evergreen and set Witchhazel down, murmuring softly as she checked the girl over. We will stay the night here, my dear, she said. If she left the girl here she could go out and look for food, or for something to soothe their pains. There was little the winter would give them, but Starbuck could hope.

the pain comes in long bursts before her tiny body can handle it no longer and she is cast in and out of consciousness. but in the bittersweet relief of feeling numb she feels something grip her by the collar; but she swims in darkness and is unable to identify what causes her movement. the loss of her eyes become more confusing to her than shocking, for she cannot recall what had cast her into the sudden darkness. she had closed her eyes, and they had never opened.

witchhazel does not question the turn of events and lingers between life and death with more ease than expected. however, on occasion, she wakes to the feeling of frayed skin scalding across her body and she screams 'till she can no longer; lapsing into her dreams once again. it is a continuous cycle that will last the rest of her life, interrupted only but the affectionate nudges of her saviour. 

witchhazel lies conscious in the snow; unmoving. she does not feel her feet, her legs, or any part of her at all at that moment. she simply lay with no indication she is able to pick herself up. eventually, her bowels begin their daily movement and the snow turns yellow underneath her and she can do nothing to move herself away. she waits until her unknown caretaker will notice her accident, and until then, she falls into slumber once more.

in her dreams, she is whole once more. she is beautiful. she runs, chasing after a woman and three children just like her. she basks in the sunlight, surrounded by a family she will never have and a life she will never receive. she is happy, at that moment in time.

Phone post below--beware, lmao.

Some time had passed since her last departure from the cavern, the happenings of her tribe having kept her preoccupied. When at last it had seemed as if things had settled and she'd felt her children old enough to be left alone, she'd slipped through the lair's opening and made her way through the mountains. The rocky terrain underfoot had felt all too familiar, but the chill to the air and the patches of snow made her enjoy it a little less. There'd come a moment or two where she had wondered if it might be wiser to turn back and return home, but no amount of questioning had led to any real actions being taken. Asterr had pressed onwards despite the bitterness of the winter winds, eventually having found herself moving downwards into the vale.

Whilst she'd not been born amongst the peaks and ridges of any mountain, the Sunspire Range had provided her with the chance to familiarize herself with the rough land formations. Having lived there for a long while already she had thought herself to be fully capable of traversing the paths at any given time, but that belief had flown right out the window as she'd found herself slipping. So often was she careful that the fact that she'd stepped onto a section of loose rocks had both shocked and confused her, then pained her as her body had been dragged down the rest of the way into the vale. And though she'd managed to escape without any serious injuries and stand up afterwards, her heart hadn't slowed back down to its regular pace. Uncertainty kept her from traveling back up the way she'd come from, and so it was along the flatter lands that she'd started to walk, allowing herself a moment or two before returning home.

Across the earth she'd moved, ensuring that there truly hadn't been a great deal of damage done to her body. When she'd stopped again, it had been only because the scent of another had tickled her nose, whose direction the Chieftess had begun to move in out of curiosity. Upon her arrival, she'd spotted only the eldest of the duo; the fact that there was a child there with her had not been realized, but she'd still kept herself from drawing too close. "Hello," she'd greeted, unable to say much more. A familiar scent intermingling with Starbuck's own had captured her attention, knowing not what it was, but realizing that she'd not smelt it in a great while. It was faint, hardly able to be detected anymore, but she'd still found enough of it to hold her attention and be interested in the other canine.

Witchhazel had yet to regain consciousness, and so Starbuck had been unable to feed her, though every so often she could manage to get some water into the girl's mouth. Her charge's chances lay upon a thin thread, and every day that passed with the girl still asleep was a day closer to her death. Indeed death seemed inevitable, no matter how dutiful Starbuck was in caring for the child's burns. I must find some way to stave off infection, she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes, meditating, hoping to recall some distant lesson taught long ago.

She remembered nothing, but a light breath wind ran its fingers through her fur, and for a brief moment she saw a half fallen tree and tasted a burst of sweetness upon her tongue. There was peace, here, in her vision. But the peace fled as the wind gusted stronger, reminding her of the burns across her face. It ended too soon, but it had served its purpose. She remembered.

Before she could do much else, Starbuck looked again upon Witchhazel and found that she had relieved herself. Ever mindful of the girl's comfort, even in her sleep, Starbuck carefully lifted and replaced the girl on a clean patch of earth. She had only just finished when a stranger spoke, startling the Seer. Oh! she cried, then turned to face the stranger, a black-furred woman with remarkable eyes. Hello, she said, trying not to sound as tired and downtrodden as she felt and failing. Tell me, please. Is there a pack nearby? The girl is not... not well. Without proper shelter I fear she will die, Starbuck's voice cracked and faltered as she choked on a threatening sob. Please. Help us.

Never had she intended to startle the other female, but it seemed as if she had anyways. Realizing the sort of reaction she’d caused, Asterr looked at her with an apologetic gaze. It’d remained like that for hardly a blink’s worth of time before becoming sympathetic. Solely due to the tone used she had initially felt sorry for the stranger, but then she’d noticed the child that was with her and her focus shifted. The marks that marred her body spoke to the woman, reminding her of the dangers that came with a dragon’s breath, but why a child so young had been engulfed by fire was an answer that she might never receive; this she cared not for, anyways, knowing better than to sit back and ask questions in a time such as the present. Whatever the duo had experienced was a story for some other time as the Chieftess switched modes, no longer a friendly stranger but a worried medic—worried for the wounds that scarred the little girl’s body, and for the exhaustion that her assumed caretaker was surely feeling.

As a mother, she longed to step forward and carefully embrace the girl, to take away her pain and mend her battered body. But, despite how strongly her desire to do so was, she’d held herself back. She would not overstep any boundaries and risk scaring the eldest of the pair off, feeling the need to help her, too. Her internal struggle hadn’t prevented her from answering, as was revealed with a simple nod of her head. “My tribe is located just a short ways from here,” she’d said, not the least bit hesitant. “Come, I will take you there. We will restore both the child and yourself the best that we are able.” She thought not of what others might say or how she might be looked at for offering resources to a stranger. In Asterr’s mind, it was far better to help those in need than leave them to suffer, which was exactly what she intended to do. With that thought in mind, she’d asked, “Are you able to carry her, or would you allow for me to do so?” Whilst Witch clearly needed more medical attention, the dragoness could not bring herself to completely disregard the comfort of her guardian.

Once an answer had been given, the woman complied with her wishes and, after ensuring that no one was at risk of keeling over, began leading the child and her protector back to the lair. Once there, she'd treated them both, then left them to rest and heal in her medical chamber.