Stavanger Bay blood and wine

The pale woman set to work on him, and while she had warned him that some of her treatments may sting him, the dark warrior was prepared for the worst of it. He had known awful injuries in his life already; some that should have claimed his life. While she began her job, he would watch her go to and fro. When it came to collecting the things she needed from the ocean, she did not seem to struggle as badly. Perhaps it was because it was something instinctual about her. Just as he had been born and bred to fight and defend, she had been raised on the idea of healing. What a peculiar thought.
 
They had healers on Warsaw, but they were designated to the leaders of the outer packs. Skellige had one at his side for the vast majority of his life, until the healer had been killed in a border fight. They had never appointed a replacement for the inky Cairn male. Shortly after, he had been banished from his homelands. It would not have mattered if they had found a replacement. He was no longer to call the Islands his home. The thought left a vile taste in his mouth, and the sting began to settle in his neck and shoulder. He gritted his teeth together and quietly allowed her to continue her work. She seemed busy and focused on her task. It was an admirable trait for any to possess.
 
When she had completed the work, she came back to face him and he peered at her with dark eyes, still remaining silent. She explained that he would need to keep the seaweed applied to his wound for the next two nights and that she could return to be taught. Blinking slowly, the dark wolf nodded his head. “I’ve lived through worse,” he told her with a flick of his tail and a gruff sigh. “I will remain in the bay. Return to me to check on the healing of this wound and we will begin fishing shortly after,” he then added with a small nod of his head.