Redhawk Caldera Only blue or black days

He had been asleep when the last cluster of summer herbs was dropped off for him, either because of the ordeal the beast had gone through, or because of earlier treatment. So when he was roused, Njal sought out more of the painkillers - he didn't know what they were, only that he felt less shitty if he munched on them. Being a little high was nice, too. He moaned as he raised his head, peering with red-rimmed eyes around the area for the latest arrival of herbs; however, he did not notice any piles of yarrow or bearberry. What caught his attention was the bumbling movement of another wolf - and then the voice, one that he recognized.

"Hello, fellow invalid," mumbled the dark man as he sluggishly approached. Njal turned his head slightly so that he could look upon him better, but the slight movement made him dizzy, so he plopped his head back down. "Peregrine," his own voice was tired, but hardly as melancholic as the alpha's. "Glad t'see you survived the storm." He licked his lips, tasting the soil which had somehow dusted across his snout, and gave a little shake of his head (which again, just made him dizzy).

"What happened to you?" Njal asked next, somewhat numb to the impropriety of such a question; nobody had told him about Peregrine's injuries, and he seemed able-bodied enough. He had meant to ask, 'What is a strong young man like you doing here, of all places?' but Njal was still acclimatizing to his treatment. His brain and his mouth weren't in sync, and apparently lacked a filter.