Shadewood there is a bear in the wound

She decided to venture westward today, traipsing through miles of woods before coming upon a sheer cliff face. Masquerade knew it must end at the seaside to the north, so she turned south and loped along in its shadow until she came across quite the secret tucked among the trees. They thinned a little around a pool at the foot of a great waterfall.

Masque marveled at it for a while before slaking her thirst in the rippling pool. She immediately wanted to tell @Riley about her discovery, bring him here. Reluctantly she pulled away and traipsed north again along the rock wall. She began veering east, headed back to their stretch of the woods.

She didn’t see the attack coming. One minute she was trotting homeward, the next she was rolling over and over from the brutal force of impact. Masquerade managed to find her feet just in time to field the second onslaught from an unfamiliar she-wolf. She leaped not for Masque’s face but for her hindquarters, fangs sinking into the meat of her thigh.

A sharp snarl tore out of her as she reflexively snapped at whatever part of the stranger she could reach, which happened to be the side of the other woman’s face. She ripped an ear to ribbons and slashed that same cheek, prompting her attacker to release her rump. They sprang apart.

But the other wolf was relentless. Half her face covered in blood, she once more tried to savage Masquerade’s hindquarters. Masque managed to evade a second direct hit, though the stranger seized her by her overlong tail. Just as she was about to deglove it, the Redtail kicked out a hind foot, landing a sound blow to the other she-wolf’s lower jaw.

A yelp echoed through the woods as blood poured from her mouth. Masque thought of Avicus as she spun and seized the other wolf by the nape of her neck. She only meant to subdue her, forcing her into submission and then hopefully retreat. Then a savage indignation pulsed through her and as the other wolf attempted a death roll, she doubled down and deepened her bite.

A moment later, she shoved away from the slumped body of her nameless adversary. Masquerade panted heavily, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel blood pouring from her upper thigh but she didn’t turn to inspect it just yet. Instead, she made certain the other she-wolf was dead, then hastily retreated from the scene.

She limped back across her borders a short while later and sent up a shaky howl for her mate.

Riley didn’t think much initially when they parted ways; the pair were rather industrious, often tackling large stretches of land between the two of them. Masquerade was more a traveler, while Riley often spent his time securing their home.

Something about the tremulous howl that sounded shook Riley; it wasn’t Masque’s normal call. Riley made for it immediately, coming upon a scene that caused his stomach to drop.

Blood tinged the air and darkened her fur; Riley traced her new injuries with a quiet gasp, coming towards her with reaching muzzle and heart pounding. Masque! Are you okay?! What happened?! He pressed, wanting at once to hug her but also to give her space, as he imagined her wounds were quite ginger. Blood rimed her muzzle, chest, rump and tail — but from what he could tell, her injuries did not spring from her mouth. Something awful had happened; Riley felt fear clutch his heart.

Riley came quickly. Masquerade pressed against him with a low whine, minding the wound on her right thigh as she pressed her left side against him. She slipped her head into its notch beneath his, listening to his heartbeat as she waited for hers to slow.

I’m okay, she said, her voice breathy and pitched higher than usual, I think.

She carefully pulled out of their embrace. First her eyes settled on his face, then they skirted to her own thigh. There were at least four deep punctures, blood smearing her entire leg. The flow had decreased with her heart rate, though Masque could see that she was still actively bleeding.

Can you help me clean this? she asked a little faintly, gaze returning to Riley’s face. Can you actually clean it while I explain? she amended, slowly sinking to the ground, weight shifted onto her left hip.

Masque pressed herself to him, albeit nursing the far side of her flank as she did so. Riley could feel the pulse of her heart beat between the two of them, as her head found its familiar crook under his jaw.

He breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite a thousand questions — and emotions — clamoring to make themselves known.

His gaze followed hers, to the ugly scene on her hip. Several punctures, a stain of deep merlot blooming across her thigh. Riley wordlessly nodded as she asked him to clean her, but then slid down. He helped her best he could, his head pounding as he leaned down next to her and began to clean the blood from her leg and thigh best he could.

Gingerly, she eased closer to the ground, propped up on her left elbow. This allowed her to stretch out her wounded leg, much as it hurt. Riley’s touches stung horribly too, though she did not complain beyond a grimace, her lips pressing together and twisting

I went exploring to the west. On my way back, some bitch rushed me out of nowhere, Masque ground out between clenched teeth. She kept going for my backside for some reason, which should’ve made her feel lucky, though it didn’t. I was able to grab ahold of her—

Just then, he prodded at one of the punctures with a bit too much pressure. Masque winced and jumped a little, sucking in a breath which came out on a hiss. Part of her wanted to shove him away, though she restrained herself. The bite marks needed cleaning, lest they become infected.

She’s dead, she declared softly after settling down with a few more deep breaths.

Riley’s ministrations could hardly be called expert — but he tried his best as Masque sunk closer to the ground. It was a new experience for him — he tried to be gentle, but even then some of his work elicited wincing. This made his heart twist with guilt, but he pragmatically remembered it was necessary. He could not risk losing her to infection.

As he worked, he listened. Masque explained she’d been — in all retrospects — ambushed. This tripped some alarms in Riley; why would a wolf just randomly attack, no words? He tried to think of what would justify this. Had she somehow trespassed? Even this thought he put aside, for Masque was more than capable of using her nose.

He paused as the verdict of Masque’s assailant reached his ears.

Dead?

A savage pride for his mate came to life within his chest. He had no scruples about defending oneself. All the same, he worried — worried for what this might mean for their future. What if this wolf had a pack? What if they discovered the body and tracked Masque back to the Shadewood. Or worse yet, what if this wolf was gravely ill?

Good. Riley set his cleaning aside a moment, measuring the gilded stare of his mate. Are you okay? He did not mean physically— that much he could see — but he worried for the parts of Masque he could not see, and would never know unless she showed him.

She opened her mouth to answer her mate’s question, only to clap it shut again when she realized she was shaking. Physically speaking, she wasn’t in terrible shape. The bite was serious but it was the only injury she’d sustained in the attack. Now that she was safe under Riley’s care, it let the emotional aspect of the ambush catch up with her.

I didn’t mean to kill her, she said through chattering teeth, at least, at first. I was just going to subdue her. But she attacked me out of nowhere! And I—I had to eliminate the threat, didn’t I?

Masque shuddered at the pleading note in her own voice, head shaking as the tremors in her body increased. She instinctively began to curl into a tighter ball, gently nudging Riley with a foot. He could continue tending the wound in a minute but, right now, she needed to hold onto him.

Riley felt his composure become tentative - it wasn’t the blood that upset him. It was the way Masque trembled beneath his touch. 

He did not fault her for a second. Horribly, he had to question what he’d do in that situation, and he arrived to the same conclusion.  Either he, or the wolf, would be dead. Only one survivor in a skirmish like that. 

He was just abundantly grateful it was Masque. 

Her tremors began to worsen. As she curled into a ball and nudged him, Riley wordlessly pulled alongside her, stretching the length of his body so every part of him could feasibly be in contact with her. He was mindful of her fresh wounds as he did so — but in that moment he wished he could hold her so tightly it would all go away.

Riley quickly arranged himself around her and Masquerade leaned gratefully into his warmth, still shivering. Was she going into shock? She felt like Ashlar had told her about this once, though she couldn’t remember what he’d said, especially right now.

I don’t want to be like that, Masque found herself babbling, voice as shaky as her breaths and everything else. I don’t think she gave me any choice, she answered herself, though still she quaked at the realization she had taken a life today.

As Masque’a body leaned into his stretching embrace, Riley was taken by the warmth of her frame — and how violently she shook.

You had no choice. Riley murmured into the stern grey of her ruff. There was no other option that would bring you back to me. He reiterated, positioning himself so he could pull her closer to him, where the heat of his body might quell her shivering.

She couldn’t help but think of the lives taken on the borders of Redtail Rise. The pack’s Fengtoth had always defended their territory without hesitation and often without mercy. Masquerade could not think of a single incident where any of them had struggled after the fact. In this wild moment, she realized she truly was cut from a different cloth than her kin.

Masque said nothing of this. She said nothing else at all. Biting back a whimper, she pushed against Riley, borrowing his strength and his warmth as she tried to settle. It took time, but with every crook tucked into one of his corners, the shaking began to subside.

It was tempting to drift off into an exhausted sleep, though Masquerade drew in a big breath and sat up instead. The wounds would need a second pass, perhaps several more over the course of the next few hours, if she wanted to fight off infection and jump start the healing process.

I’m okay, she said, catching Riley’s eye as she squared her shoulders. Let’s get this done, shall we?

She reached out to nuzzle him, then sat back to let him work again. It was hardly a pleasant process and neither one of them was a medic, though Masquerade knew the importance of cleaning a wound. That was an early lesson from the deceased Haelend she would never forget.

The moment shared between them was tender — but truthfully, Riley was more terrified for Masque than he’d ever been. 

She shot up suddenly, earning an inquisitive gaze from her mate — but his questions were shortly answered, and he nodded grimly. 

He was no Ashlar — but the least he could do was tend to his mate best as he could. Riley grimaced as he looked at one particularly deep puncture. He’d seen plenty of gore and gristle before — he was, after all, a carnivore — but it was somehow different when it was someone you loved. 

As Masque thought of the Rise and how her life threaded a distinctly different path, Riley’s mind wandered to their future as he cleaned the blood and dirt from the pelt of his mate. They didn’t have much — but they had each other. And Riley would commit thousand thoughtless murders to keep it that way forever.