Golden Glade taking your time

A lot had changed. He'd tried to block it out, but there was no use. Everything was different here.

Well. Almost. He could take his solace in Tambourine's company, but he couldn't tell if he truly wanted to be here either. They were both wounded by the Keep's fall. The move, the claiming the Glade, and the bitter cruel winter were good enough distractions. Or.. just more to be worried about.

Silas sat quietly between the bare trees. The forest was foreign to him still. He'd only hunted a few small trinkets because he was too tired. He contemplated his state, and what he would be here..

As he swallowed the singular poppy seed, Bastian felt a gentle wave of release course through his body. The German hummed in contentment, the feeling of some kind of opiate calming his already agitated body. His tail thumped against the snow covered ground as he sighed, his body collapsing on its side into the snow. He murmured something to himself as he rolled in it, displaying an uncharacteristic childish bliss that lasted but only a moment as he popped up and began to walk.

The weather was at last calming down, warming up bit by bit until it felt comfortable...well, as comfortable as winter could be. He feared not the warmer winter, having already lived through this last cold spell and many others like it. The medic moved with some semblance of confidence through the snow, stopping only at the edge of where the Court had been.

There was a change. The claimaints had changed, the new scent recent — and strong. They had not officially claimed the territory just yet, but he suspected it would be soon. Peering into the Glade, he saw a figure in the distance. Not daring to trespass on newly claimed grounds, he called out to the wolfish figure. Hallo! Guten tag, mein Freund. Are you all new here?

He looked towards the treetops, then back to the snowscape around him and felt very little towards what he saw. He just sighed and shivered, but it had been colder before.

When a voice making strange words broke his silence, he straightened and got up to stand. His furs prickled, fearing first of all a Court wolf returning with vengeance. Silas approached warily and was glad at least some of what he said did eventually make sense. Briefly he wondered if he had just misheard it entirely. Nothing would really surprise him anymore.

After striding over, he didn't get too close.. "We are the new owners of the Glade, yes," the lean yearling answered with a curt nod and best impression of a well-established fellow on. "Who are you?" he asked.

The new owners of the Glade. And just so recently he scented different owners on this land. Vas zhere a battle? He asked, wondering what this new pack had against the Glade to simply take them over — or if they were just desperate. Regardless, they must have wounded wolves, or sick ones. I am a Doktor, you know, Perhaps he could do Asherah and her children a favor and bring them some food in repayment for his services.

I am Doktor Bastian Hoffner, at your service, He said with a bow, smiling. Und who are you?

Silas was skeptical. The older male's accent was difficult on his ears, which swiveled curiously despite his expression pulling them backward often. "Uh. Not really much of one," he replied, unsure if that would just spur more questions. "I don't know about all of the others. They left without too much resistance," he explained in regard to the fallen Court. The fighting had started and ended in an instant, it seemed to him. With them having outnumbered the others so badly, they'd not engaged much -- aside from a few reckless moves from that one female and the puppy's appearance. They'd won, in the end, and the others had fled. Silas had no idea where they'd gone and just wanted it to be far away from here. He felt nothing towards them, whoever they had been; they weren't anyone he knew. "We did travel a long way in the cold to get here," which he mentioned vaguely with Tambourine's toes in mind. Bites and scrapes from idiotic wolves from the fallen Court would heal and at worse, leave a scar to tell the tale. His toes would not.

"I'm Silas," he offered, paired with a nervous glance away. "I'm a.. just a hunter here." Well. He had been in the Keep. He'd barely hunted anything here yet. But, tilting his head, he tried to make sense of this all bit by bit. "At my service?" Fidgeting, he knew that sounded bad. Almost he wondered, based on how he presented himself as Doctor offering Services, if someone was expecting him and the Ostrega just didn't know it. Frankly, he didn't know what to do with any of this since he wasn't very good at this whole meeting strangers in the first place. "Do you just go around and do doctor things wherever or do you come from somewhere specific?" he asked, his phrasing coarse, but hopefully effective enough. 

He didn't know much about the pack before, other than the fact that they were simply there. He never had much involved with them, neither did the Malkaria itself. He said nothing to that, merely disappointed that there wasn't as much destruction as he would like. He thrived on hurt and pain, both spiritually and within his career. Bastian hmmphed, scratching his ear, watching the boy calmly. Anyone sick zhen? He asked, though it was less interesting than a battle scar, it was still work. I do, He replied. I suppose you can call me a travelink doktor,

Sick? No, he shook his head back and forth to answer. That wasn't an issue here. Even Jhala's young pups seemed okay enough to Silas -- not that he'd looked closely because they were still beneath that age limit for him where vaguely ignoring them all he could was best protocol. "Oh. Does the winter make it difficult?" How do you survive roaming by yourself he wondered.

"There is maybe.. Well," Silas seemed to waver on what he wanted to say, or how exactly to say it to this foreign traveling doctor with motives he did not understand either. "He's not sick, and this is kind of something he's already adapted to, but my.. friend. On the trek here from our last home, the cold froze some of his toes so badly that they came off." The dark Ostrega watched the stranger very carefully to gauge what he should detail. "Have you seen that before? Is there anything to.. I don't know, anything he could do to protect himself where he doesn't have toes now? Does it just scar up and be all okay for good when something like that happens? Because it really seems that way," he explained nervously. Silas had never experienced lost parts, no matter how small the digit, before. Reek had not seemed overly fretful about them once the damage was done and Tambourine got around fine after initially adjusting, so knowing that had soothed Silas somewhat. It still sat heavy on his mind sometimes, though.

Ja. Yes, it does. I am not wandering now; I am settled nearby in a Copse. He feels no fear or apprehension from notifying them of his location, which, if someone searched for him, would lead them to Asherah. No, he'd rather she and her pups be found; they were more likely to survive with a pack, however unfamiliar and heathen they may be to her.

The man listens to the prognosis, brow furrowed intuitively as he matches the symptoms to a disease. Frostbite, He diagnoses this unknown boy. It was uncommon to then as wolves, but it did happen from time to time. He isn't surprised, given the fierce winter they just had. It vill heal, eventually, but he must keep his paws varm to prevent anymore toes from beink removed. He murmurs, thinking of what best he could do right now. He might feel somethink called "phantom pain", however. It happens commonly with any part of she body being removed. It vill go away vith time. The syndrome still perplexed him, and he wondered of its intricacies many a time. He wondered how this wolf might feel, and if the circumstances surrounding their removal changed how he felt... May I see him? I can better help if I see zhe vounds for myself,

Silas nodded along, although such mention of a Copse did not strike as familiar to him. A recent transplant to the Tuktu, he had no idea what exactly was around here, or how far anything was supposed to be. Still, it seemed smart to remember that..

Frostbite. He'd heard the term tossed around a bit, namely between Reek and the others. Silas had only assumed, but that didn't mean he fully understood what that meant medically the first few times he heard it come up. Now, he'd had time to put more thought into it, and really pry into the details. Why had only Tambourine's toes suffered? They'd all, himself included, walked the same, miserable pathway to get from the Keep to here. "Phantom pain? Weird," he quipped, kind of interested in the concept but hesitant to go picking into such a thing. "I don't know if he's had any of that. Really though, after he got used to balancing and walking a little differently, all has seemed alright." Silas shrugged. His friend's relative nonchalance on the issue itself had been almost unnerving to him, but he knew that was just how he was. The Ostrega couldn't tell if he was right to worry this much or not.

"It was only the worst of the cold that.. got to him that way, and it was only a couple toes.. The rest of us were fine, which I don't understand. But it happened quickly. Once it did I guess we all really realized.." Silas looked away with a lingering grimace, although he bit it back soon after. He couldn't help feeling protective of Tambourine, especially now. "He's out scouting right now. Since everything is so new here, we've all stayed busy." he shook his head apologetically. There was a chance he could still be in earshot, but Silas was wary and did not want to interrupt him. All he knew was that he wasn't right here..

Not long after, the doctor would take his leave and Silas would be left with some answers.. and plenty of questions as he loitered alone on their borderlands. He would take his time to digest all of that and decide what to relay to Tambourine.