Swiftcurrent Creek the wounds that cut the soul

/weeps

Exiting Bazi here - leaving the disciplinary action with Jace and Fox.

But Bazi shook her head. "You take him." She needed to get away. The very sight of born-again Ferdie made her skin crawl with rage and hurt - but mostly rage. What gave him the right to flip-flop between raving lunacy and plain vanilla on the pack's dime? And why was it treated like an illness, and not a choice? She simply did not believe - could not believe - that either of the two males were so shackled to their inner demons that reality simply ceased to exist for huge swathes of time. Ferdie could've hurt Nightingale, or Sky - though Bazi cared less about that after the strangely marked female's insubordination - and that would have been his choice. And if he could prove otherwise, a sickness that potent warranted culling, not understanding.

An immature part of her - and it was still a large part - was just pissed that Ferdie was being celebrated for getting away with attempted murder, whilst she was beginning to feel the less glamorous burden of leading. Nobody celebrated that. On those grounds alone, she hoped Fox would rip him a new one.

The wolf in question said nothing, shrinking into himself like a pup expecting to be spanked. Both of them were still bleeding profusely, and she glanced at the poultice that Scimitar had left. The awkward not-medic had swiftly departed, leaving her alone with injuries she didn't have the expertise to deal with. Still bristling with anger and avoiding her former den-mate's eye, she snatched up the little parcel of chewed herbs and dropped it at Jace's feet. "He said he would make more," she murmured roughly, throwing one last glowering stare over her shoulder. "Don't bother coming back to the den," she snapped, and disappeared into the darkness at a brisk trot.