Panther Park fish in the sea of galilee

Want to finish this up next round? ^^ Mild powerplay! I can change if need be.

When the sheepdog judged Dakarai’s grisly wound was sufficiently numbed, she edged timorously nearer. Healing, she knew, was not merely concerned with seeing to the maladies of the body but the heart and spirit as well; the sprightly empath could feel Olive’s waves of uncertainty and hurt lapping hotly against her own flesh, and the pleading look in those forest hollow eyes drew a tremulous whine from their inkdark beholder. Very softly, Seelie tiptoed close enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the young mother-to-be, and aimed to lay the vulnerable curve of her throat and the pert curve of her chin across the druid’s shoulders. Between two humans, the gesture would have been akin to putting a comforting — albeit shyly trembling — arm around one’s shoulders. Tipping her finely tapered skull to the left, Coelacanth ruffled the willowy female’s fur against the grain and then made to smooth it with her tongue in a fond caress.

She met the gentle giant’s gaze with bashful furtiveness, the focus of her Neptune eyes only just crossing Dakarai’s scrutiny before slewing away. The flesh of his crown was swollen and tender, broken and oozing. The blood had staunched it for the nonce, but crude debridement of the wound would start it bleeding again. Inviting Olive to watch her ministrations with an uncharacteristically decisive quirk of her fox-fine muzzle, Seelie steeled herself against the turning of her stomach and went to work cleaning the wound of purulent discharge, casting it upon the snow with a kittenish display of hissing and spitting. In the only way she could, she made it clear that the thick, yellow-white fluid was a very bad thing: her lips curled over her fangs as she growled at the pus-spattered snow, and she turned to kick fresh snow over it with a snort of distaste.

Eventually, the wound was cleaned to the tiny Groenendael’s fussy satisfaction, and fortunately it did not require a great deal of debriding. Her incisors plucked and nipped, cutting away the dead and infected flesh, and this she also spat and buried. Rinsing her mouth with snow, she regarded her handiwork with a critical eye and then turned her attention further inland. Turning again to Olive, she parted her slim jaws and gathered snow into her mouth. Again she let it dribble from her lips to stream down the wound, sluicing away rivulets of blood, and she nodded to the pale sylph encouragingly. Lavaging the jagged flesh was important, but difficult in such cold weather. Still, Dakarai would be better off if Olive could manage it while Seelie investigated the nearby foliage for something she could use to help him.

Backing away from the pair, Seelie trotted a few steps toward the forest, then returned to the star-crossed pair’s vicinity. “I will come back,” she willed them to understand, trotting away again and tossing as stern a glance as she could muster over one shoulder. One dainty, catlike paw lifted; she waved it like a doggish version of a crossing guard, then she disappeared into the brush to hunt for herbs.