Raven's Watch we're terrified of what's around the corner

She was delirious, and he watched in a sad sort of bemusement as she struggled to gain her bearings. It gave him an opportunity to assess her wounds without her feeling scrutinized by him. Pale eyes glided across her steel-gray body, pausing against the places where red and black smeared her coat. Gifts from the coast wolves, if he had understood her warning correctly. Warbone's tail continued ticking back and forth in the dirt, as if counting the time he would sit there, or counting down to something. He remembered the gold she-wolf he had tended to some weeks or so before, and he felt much the same inclination now. Because despite appearances and an unwillingness to be commanded, Warbone wasn't without empathy. He simply picked the times he wished to show it.

"Home," he repeated in a huff, as if it were a word like fairies that needed to be treated with blatant scorn. "You need rest," he insisted, getting to his feet suddenly and stepping close to her, just out of the range of her teeth. "And something on your stomach. Now, I can help you, but I will not force my assistance upon you..." he murmured, hovering near, preparing to touch her— tend to her wounds.