Swiftcurrent Creek To Hold and Ocean

Tuwawi recoiled when Njal flinched, seething from the pain laced throughout his body like a spider's web. Her lips twisted in response, sad so see such suffering elicited from his wounds. Fox's gashes had been ugly to look at... but at least they left her mind clear to cope with the aches. Her husband was offered no such respite. Visibly feverish and agitated from his tarnished gashes, Tuwawi felt powerless as she watched him writhe uncomfortably in the home that was supposed to bring such joy; but that was now only permeated with the noxious musk of illness.

What an idiot she was. Why hadn't she learned to heal when she had the opportunity? There had been plenty of chances in life, both Kindred and Tartok alike, but Tuwawi had never bothered to pick up the skill. Surely there must be some bark or root to soothe Njal's pain? She peeked outside for the briefest of moments... but not a soul stirred. Everyone had returned to their own dens to nurse their wounds throughout the misty twilight. Even the Springtime was unforgiving... nothing was in bloom and the drab scrim of Swiftcurrent offered little comfort to the wife stationed at her husband's bedside. Her jaw clenched as she listened to his numbed words, 'Tuwa- are you 'right?' Even now, he didn't think of himself, and it spurred Tuwawi's heart to clench in agony. "Shhhh, yes, yes," she murmured, voice placid as a dove's, "you must be quiet, now." She willed him not to speak further. He must save his energy.

Gently, she left from the den, rooting around in the fog for only a few minutes. She hunted for a pile of snow, leftover from the harsher winter months, but found they had become increasingly rare. Finally locating what she sought, Tuwawi returned with a small chuck of hardened ice fixed between her jaws. She slipped through the door, and set it between Njal's feet. "Lick it if you can," she suggested, "or rest your head." As if to grant some sort of miracle, the moon's luminescence momentarily split the haze and allowed the whole of Njal's gruesome wounds to become visible. Tuwawi inhaled sharply, muscle quivering as she resisted the urge to tend to it.