Blacktail Deer Plateau the storm is coming in

He drifted, mostly because the pull for rest was so strong. It wasn't from the severity of his injures — a thankless grace — but he found that he fought it all the same. Mordecai hated just how exposed he felt right there along the gradual incline of the plateau. He hated that it was taking him more time than he wanted to to muster the strength to just keep pushing on upward. He sighed, letting himself sink further into the dried, damp grasses of a year past.

And the next time a bit of clarity came back around, it was from the nudge of another. His eyes opened slowly, almost confused, as though the whole thing had been some bizarre dream brought on by a bad choice in bedtime meals. But as Blue Willow raked her tongue across his face, the acuteness of pain each time brought him clarity quickly. At first he recoiled from her ministrations, only to resign himself to the fact that it happened to be a necessary evil. He didn't know much about healing in general, but knew enough that his own wounds had to be kept clean to heal. And they were in dire need of that, long clotted by the time it had taken for him to return to the plateau.

She spoke gently, almost motherly towards him. He could smell Lasher upon her, but more distinctly he smelled those puppies that had warmed his heart when he had needed it. And perhaps most importantly of all, she wanted to know what had happened to him. "I met the business end of someone who doesn't like travelers," he commented dourly. It wasn't what had happened, but he didn't move to clarify it either. Not right in that moment, anyway. "How's the kids?"