Bearclaw Valley Your Special Spot in Hell Awaits You

Takes place present day

Skoll was feeling. Something. He was feeling something. What that something was he wouldn't be able to tell a soul. Maybe it was regret that he wasn't able to catch the woman that had tossed Merrick's child, or maybe it was the fact that he'd done got himself mauled after losing her. Either way, it had been some days since the incident and he didn't see anything happening to the woman. Donovan, or whatever the hell that guy's name was, would not deal with Nyra in any way. He made it very clear in the way he spoke to the wolves when he went to their border. 

And just that alone made Skoll grind his teeth. He wasn't going to act like an idiot and go try to hunt her down, especially with a good amount of the fighters in the pack being injured. It didn't stop him from thinking about it. Thinking about it just made the itch in his teeth get worse, and that made him wonder how he became this... this thing. A monster. Skoll was never one for fighting - he was the weakest wolf out of his family, due to his weight and the fact that he never seemed to build any muscle. He never wanted to draw anyone's blood in the past. 

Not until now, and that was scary. 

He had pledged his life to Ursus, told Merrick that he would stand by him no matter what happened. Skoll was going to do just that. Even with the swimming thoughts in his head that he was becoming something his family would hate him for. They would hate to see him like this - beaten up, bruised because of his own doings. Because he chose to follow someone so dangerous. Because he threw himself into that situation on his own after seeing how dangerous Merrick was. The fun was in the chase, though. And Skoll chased his own feelings as if it were a race. 

He chased, and chased, and chased the things his brain wanted to pursue. He wanted to pursue this pack. He wanted to stick with them despite the being he was starting to become. Or was it the urge to protect his pack that muddled his mind and fogged everything and told him to bite. Skoll did, too. He did bite, he tore at the woman's flesh until she took off. Skoll followed - of course he did. Only to lose the trail and feel his brain get even more muddled up than before. 

He'd attacked a stranger, lost his tail. All in the span of a few days. 

Oh, how his family would hate him now. If only they could see what kind of wolf he had become. 

Skoll had left them behind, though, and wouldn't go back. They wouldn't miss him anyway - all too keen to replace family members over and over again. Maybe it was best to stop thinking about them. He promised to stick where he was, in Ursus. With the group of wolves that knew how to bite as much as they knew how to feel. Skoll himself hadn't visited Merrick's child in Evien's den. He had thought about it once or twice, but the dark man wasn't needed there. it was not his time to grieve for injuries that could have killed. 

Skoll had watched the den for a little while, before getting bored. Now he found himself staring up at the clouded sky, lying down in the grasses, away from that area but still within the midlands of the borders.

what skoll's family did not know, was that their kin had become augmented -- one with the mighty bear of ursus. 

astara came across him resting in a grassy knoll, studying the passing of clouds in the sky. she paused, alarmed -- for it was the first she had learned he lost his tail. a scent of blood and old wounds saturated the area, drawing her close with quiet sniffs: he appeared alright, but who had done it, and what had happened?

The dark man did not notice the raven at first, for his eyes were too keen on watching the passage of clouds above his head. Maybe it would rain soon, wash the scent of blood from the grasses he lay on. Wash the dirty from his bones and his head - of course, the rain would do no such thing. Skoll was already dirtied beyond rescue. He already became the thing that many would hate. 

The quiet sniffling reached his ears, now alert. Skoll turned to notice the woman sniffing at him. Was it from worry? From the wound his body had attained? It wasn't too bad - not having his tail he mused. Of course, there was still a nub leftover, healing. It would take time to heal. Time Skoll didn't want to take but would be forced to anyway. He didn't know what to say, to the woman. She never spoke which made it exceptionally hard for Skoll to read her despite everything. That might have been why the two hardly ever interacted. His tail did hurt more than the wounds on his face, even the one on his nose that Nyra had dealt. When he breathed it stung, but not as bad as his tail did when he moved, or when anything touched it. 

He simply watched Astara, for the moment. To see what she was doing - to see if he could figure out what to say.

astara nosed along that grotesque stump, ears rotating carefully as she listened for any objection from skoll.

he presented none, but that still did not settle her. who had done this -- and how?

astara stepped back, having been able to decipher little from skoll's pelt besides the residual stench of filth and clotted blood. she should get evien, she was no healer -- but she could not tell if skoll had been treated yet or not.

hanging on the balance of uncertainty, astara stood primly, pointed gaze on skoll -- as if asking for some kind of explanation.

The raven said nothing, as Skoll expected. Not even a sound came from her direction. He knew she was inspecting him, though, and the injuries. It was easy to figure out with all the sniffling and such. Skoll, though, didn't really know what to say at her. That he was an idiot and picked a fight with someone he was pretty sure couldn't feel anything? How pathetic he was. So pathetic. 

"I picked a stupid fight - that's all." He decided. 

Skoll hated explaining himself. To anyone, his used to be family, Merrick, the woman in front of him, any wolf he ever came by. Nothing good came from explaining yourself, especially if you didn't know how to do it correctly. Skoll had no idea how to read this woman, she was as stoic as ever. It only made it harder to figure out what to say. At least with Merrick he knew how the man acted at this point. The wordless woman was still a mystery.

a stupid fight. astara had seen her share, and had learned two things — draw your fangs early, and never fight outnumbered. 

she was no healer, but @Evien was. ignoring the terse nature of her companion (and who could blame him? astara would feel the same in his position), the nightshade made for the medicinal den where herbs were kept. 

she knew not what to grab, and instead stared blankly at the sundry mosses and herbs shelfed in the dark cave. pulling the one that smelled most similar to the pungent poultice evien had once administered to her, astara swung back to skoll with the bitter flora held in her jaws.

Worry... was a strange expression to be directed at himself, Skoll decided. Especially from the raven woman. Why did she have that expression? She surely couldn't be worried about Skoll - the fight he'd picked days before had nothing to do with the pack, except for what happened with Nyra. But that... was ages ago, he felt. That he picked that fight. Even though it really wasn't that long ago. 

When Astara padded off somewhere, Skoll was left in confusion, but he didn't move from his spot on the ground where he was sitting. Had she gone off to get something? The only healer in the pack he was aware of was Evien, and he surely wasn't with the two in the moment. She came back, though, with some kind of plant in her mouth. 

"Do you know what to do with that?" The wolf questioned, he sure as hell didn't.

was skoll concerned his healer would turn kristen gilbert on him, and ease him off to the next clearing on the path? astara smiled wrly as she placed the bundle on the ground, a rare expression for so grave a woman.

he asked if she knew what to do with it -- astara took a leaf in her mouth and chewed, a single shake of no given. another leaf was taken, and then another -- until a sluice of poultice and saliva dribbled from her mouth. the taste was horribly bitter, but astara continued; while she did not know what she was doing, she had seen evien do the same to her. experienced it, as well.

gingerly, astara made to move towards skoll's wound, but she paused and looked to him once while the bolus was still held in her mouth. with his blessing, she'd apply it -- but she'd probably apply it without his blessing, too. can't have her esteemed warriors dying of infection, not when ursus had so many enemies.

oh --and it stings.

Skoll didn't entirely think the woman was going to poison him - not on purpose anyway. It would be completely possible that she uses the wrong herbs on him and causes his death then and there (well... not really. It takes a while for poison to kick in) Still, though, he stayed quiet. She had been around Evien before, so had most of the other wolves in the pack. Skoll had yet to take a trip there, despite being injured like he was. 

"It's okay." He grumbled as he was looked to with questioning eyes. 

As the herbs were touched upon his wounds, Skoll hissed with a clench of his teeth. That wasn't nice, but it wasn't as bad as his tail hurt when it was taken from his body. That was a lot worse, and it would always be the worst pain that he faced, until his death.

what's this "until his death" bs? skoll aint dyin'

with the hunter's acquiescence, astara began to apply the paste. she worked quickly, without much finesse -- besides a few hisses of discomfort and an inexpert application here and there, the process was relatively straightforward. chew bitter leaves to a paste, apply sluice, wince, repeat.

stepping back, astara inspected her handiwork. she was a far way from evien's talent, but she felt a little better knowing that the herbs he'd used on her were now surely packed to skoll's wounds.

now, what came next was finding out who the fuck had been stupid enough to attack one of the beargod's own.

she packed his wounds with what she could; when she was ready, she howled for evien and left skoll to the more capable medic's hands. he'd live to see another day -- and if they were lucky, maybe he'd live to see his vengeance.