Bitterroot Valley There was somewhere else you wanted to be.

Etienne was nervous. So long since he had been a member of a pack. He was unsure if he could function. And if he thought too deeply of those in his past it hurt. Gods it hurt so much.

But he found himself in the deep of the pack lands. Near a mossy outcropping and trees. He looked around deciding this would work well for him.

sega found him near the moss-stone, the scent of herbs faint on the air. he approached with the quiet tread of a hunter, but his posture was open, curious.

etienne, he greeted, voice low but warm. you settle well?

a pause, his head tilting slightly as he studied the man—weathered, thoughtful, carrying something old in his eyes.

you say healer, sega continued. i want know more. what you mend? wounds? sickness?

another step closer, not crowding, but showing interest, respect.

great sky strong in hunt… not in healing. your skill is needed.

Etienne stopped his perusal of the area when a soft tread was heard. He found the man before he came into view with his gaze. His sensitive paws and ears letting him know the man was near.

A nod. I settle well. He took a deep breath. It smells like 'herbs 'ere. I like it.

Etienne met his gaze unflinching, but not challenging. A proud tilt to his jaw. But not haughty. Comfortable in his own skin. And comfortable with his scars both hidden and non.

Etienne shifted. I 'ave 'ealed many tings. Wounds. Sickness. Even 'ead wounds. I 'ave seen bones mended.

Etienne nodded his head. 'ealers are always needed, but per'aps not always wanted.

sega’s ears tipped forward, catching the quiet weight behind etienne’s last words. unwanted. he knew the tone of it, even if the story beneath stayed unspoken.

he stepped closer, slow so the healer could read his intent, and settled beside the mossy outcrop with a low rumble of agreement.

i know meaning, he said simply. some wolves fear what they not understand.

his gaze held steady on etienne’s—not challenging, but sure. but great sky need you. i… want to know you. know your work. what you see. what you heal.

a small lift of his chin, respectful.

you choose settle here. is good. you strong in spirit.

his tail brushed the ground once, a rare soft gesture from the bandchief.

you wanted here.

Etienne had many stories. More stories than he had lifetime actually. His life had been riddled with a series of unfortunate events and misfortunes. How many people could even boast the life he had lived, other than his family.

I am a 'ealer, but I don't mean dat I just 'eal. I mean I am a 'ealer at my very bein' do dat make sense?

Etienne did not know how to explain himself. He didn't like to hunt because it hurt prey. He felt emotions of other's easily. He was sensitive and otherworldly, but had a spine of steel. He could be sassy as anyone, but also gentle as the smallest creature.

I be seein' all sufferin'. I do my best to fix it. I wipe faces and tell dem it be okay even if it won't. Dat is wut I do.

Honestly felt like at this point his soul was in tatters. But it held fast to his skin and bone. Even when he had tried to snuff it out himself.

T'ank You.

the healer spoke like someone who carried many winters inside his ribs. sega knew that kind of weight. not the same shape, but the same heaviness.

he dipped his head once, slow.

i hear, he said. you heal in bone… not just paw. good thing.

most wolves could patch a wound. few could hold another’s hurt without drowning in it. he respected that, even if he didn’t fully understand how a man could feel so much and still stand.

after a breath, sega shifted closer, lowering onto his haunches beside the mossy outcrop etienne had chosen.

but, he rumbled, gold eyes narrowing not unkindly, you no only healer. many skill in you. i see.

he tilted his head, studying him the way he studied weather signs.

so i ask… what you like?

a simple question, but sega meant it. not what etienne could do. not what he had survived.

what made him etienne.

when no blood, no wound, no duty… what your heart want?

Etienne walked the world like an old man, and he was not even 4. He was not even mid-age yet. But he was here and he was alive and that was more than could be said of those he had loved. And he supposed that was in part why the sea never took him. She had taken too much, she took and she gave. But why did she keep giving him back. What was his purpose. Because it sure wasn't to love and be loved.

Etienne nodded his head. Dere be muc' to 'eal. Blood, bone, skin all surface. But you can't 'eal de deep wounds, if de soul and de 'eart are sick. Sometimes your body can't fig't wit'out dey soul. and if your soul be 'urt. Well I try, but dat not an easy fix.

If he had been privy to the man's thoughts. He himself would have said he didn't know how he was still standing. And by all the gods on high, he had tried not to be. He had tried to go back to the sea, but she hadn't wanted Etienne. She spat him back out, broken and battered on shores of blood, where his family had lain and cried and died. And he had laid there for days. Finally, moving when even the birds didn't want the healer.

My 'eart always calls to dey sea. But it is a 'ars' place. A place dat 'urt me. I want peace. I want love. I want to be somet'ing to someone, but for now. I be 'ealer. Dat be enuff if de rest is not for me.

Etienne walked the world like an old man, and he was not even 4. He was not even mid-age yet. But he was here and he was alive and that was more than could be said of those he had loved. And he supposed that was in part why the sea never took him. She had taken too much, she took and she gave. But why did she keep giving him back. What was his purpose. Because it sure wasn't to love and be loved.

Etienne nodded his head. Dere be muc' to 'eal. Blood, bone, skin all surface. But you can't 'eal de deep wounds, if de soul and de 'eart are sick. Sometimes your body can't fig't wit'out dey soul. and if your soul be 'urt. Well I try, but dat not an easy fix.

If he had been privy to the man's thoughts. He himself would have said he didn't know how he was still standing. And by all the gods on high, he had tried not to be. He had tried to go back to the sea, but she hadn't wanted Etienne. She spat him back out, broken and battered on shores of blood, where his family had lain and cried and died. And he had laid there for days. Finally, moving when even the birds didn't want the healer.

My 'eart always calls to dey sea. But it is a 'ars' place. A place dat 'urt me. I want peace. I want love. I want to be somet'ing to someone, but for now. I be 'ealer. Dat be enuff if de rest is not for me.

sega does not interrupt.

he stands with his head slightly lowered, gold eyes steady on etienne, listening the way one listens to wind in the trees or waves before a storm. not fixing. not correcting. just hearing.

when etienne finishes, sega breathes out slow.

i hear you, he says quietly, broken common gentle in his mouth. some wounds… no close easy. some never close at all.

a pause. then, softer—

great sky no ask you be whole. only ask you be here.

his gaze lifts, steady and sincere.

for now… healer is enough. as long as it is for you.