Dragoncrest Cliffs anger is the more productive cousin of fear

oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no


the call echoed in her ears as the medic scrambled for anything. most of her medical supplies had been taken to the caldera, and then left to be used on wildfire. she had of course collected more, but the possibility that she hadn't collected enough rang in her ears. deep breathes, she thought, trying to keep her panic to a minimum. 

in her jaws she carried cobwebs and moss and dandelion and poppies, basics that she prayed would be enough for the situation. she didn't recognize the voice, but there were two howls, and heda was included-- it was important. her little legs ran as fast as she could make them, dainty paws drumming heavily against the earth-- towards the call, towards the incident.

she smelled it before she saw it-- blood, that was. there were scents mixed in, but the scent of blood always washed her brain. who was there wasn't clear to her, not until she got there.

artaax was among the crowd, as well as a dark wolf who laid-- glassy eyed and still-- off the side. blixen and a wolf she didn't recognize were there as well, but there was blood on artaax, so that was where she beelined. "what happened??" she asked quickly, halting beside artaax to begin sniffing at him. right now, she could only see the wound on his shoulder, that was what she pinned as the most urgent.