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

She had finished the gruesome task of cleaning her facial wounds, the native felt herself take a small breath in relief. The healer moved on to examine the rest before returning, her own whine escaping her lips. Did she pity the fallen wolf?

Her tongue ran across Shikoba's nose, trying to comfort her more. Her body that tightened a bit relaxed a bit, though her tired ears perked up at Harlyn's words.

She was right in the sense that they needed to move more inland. She promised the distance to be short, and to help with every step. Shikoba found her muscles weak and torn, but would try nonetheless. Harlyn had positioned herself right next to the gamma, almost urging her to get up.

It was like a fawn walking for the first time, Shikoba was shaky and unbalanced. It took all her courage to move, even with the burning wounds constricting her movement like a python.

Slowly, she rose. Her legs gave in a few times, but she had managed to catch herself. Standing up as tall as she could without burning her shoulder, she began to weakly limp into the land, Harlyn helping with every paw fall.

Hopefully the path was close with medicine. Often, Shikoba would trip, but she was quick to catch herself, though it was all in slow motion.