Phoenix Maplewood i'mma turn it on with a bang

Luckily, the poor soul didn't seem to notice that the yearling had almost laughed at her— or if she did, her panic was overtaking any other emotion. Tail's mood shifted to full-on problem-solving mode, and she led her itchy, squeaking companion towards the pond. "You'll be fine," she assured the other. "They're annoying as heck, but mud usually takes care of 'em. They only get really bad if someone doesn't realize they have them and passes them on, and so on." A single brush of a shoulder would be enough, but Tail didn't want to further upset her companion.

It occurred to her that the pale wolf may have already passed them on to her pack, especially if she hadn't realized her condition. So, she made a quick addendum, "But even then, all anyone needs to do is take a mud bath. And probably find a new den, just to be safe."

Blessedly, they came upon the muddy shores of Feller's Pond before Tail could stir up more of a panic. Autumn was a good time to cure fleas, anyway— the rains made mud plentiful, and the cool dirt would soothe the bites further. She scouted out a suitable puddle, and with a sidelong glance at the other, Tail dove in— wriggling all around in the mud until every patch of fur was coated. Right down to the tip of her nose.