Lost Creek Hollow He doesn't know when to give up

YaaaaY!  Welcome home :D

Harlyn was exhausted. The nightmares continued to keep her from getting any true rest, and that night Larkspur had decided to steal away even her tortured sleep by throwing up half the night. The mother didn't at all mind caring for her little girl, but as she dragged herself towards the borders, determined to set out again on her mission to find their wayward beta, she couldn't help but feel a tad bit bitter over it.

But the feeling was not meant to last as a sound echoed through the Hollow. Harlyn froze in her tracks, recognizing pain in that broken tone. "No..." the alpha moaned, tears springing to her eyes, "No, no no no..." The healer was quite practiced at not allowing emotions to overrun her in moments of distress such as this, but she allowed it as she turned on her heels and ran at full speed towards the sound. It was too much. All of it was just too much.

The spirits gave speed to her paws, for which the druid was grateful when she spotted her crumpled gamma upon the forest floor. She had known in her heart that this was what she would see and smell. Her packmate, a bloodied mess, stained in the scent of blood and the stench of the hell cat. Harlyn stopped dead for a moment, shutting her eyes as frustration, anger and hopelessness washed over her. For a moment, it felt as though she too would crumple into the earth in defeat. But the seconds passed and took away that state of defeat. The healer took over, and Harlyn stepped forward with determined calm to care for her friend.

"Shikoba..." Harlyn murmured as she approached, stepping forward tentatively for now until she assessed how the woman would respond to her presence. Some injured wolves accepted her help without a whine of protest, but others allowed their instincts to drive them to panic and react defensively. She was well practiced at either situation, it was just a matter of determining which this would be before diving in.