The Floodlands I'm with the band.

Raven noticed Quixote's slight pause after she asked him to wash Roz's wound, and she smiled. Squeamish, are we? she mentally asked him, resolving with amusement to give him a hard time about it later. He dutifully did as she asked, though, and within a few quick moments she was applying the medicine to the dark she-wolf's torn hip. Although she had treated worse wounds than this, the size of this one as well as the amount of blood lost concerned Raven. If this became infected, it could become a problem of life-threatening magnitude very quickly.

The half-conscious wolf flinched and hissed out a curse, and Raven sympathized for her. She could only imagine how much it had to hurt but still, she persisted in her ministrations. She had to pack the medicine into the wound tightly so it could get into all parts of the damaged tissue and slow the bleeding. She tried to work quickly so as not to prolong the pain, and after a few minutes, she was satisfied. She used what little she had left of the yarrow to treat the other, shallower scratches on Roz's side, and then stepped back. Glancing over at Towhee, she was pleased to see that Quixote was keeping an eye on her. She stepped to her sister and made a few small, gentle adjustments to the placement of the medicine on her face, licking away more blood and grime as she did. "Roz is hurt badly," she answered in reply to Towhee's question, speaking slowly so the dazed Redhawk could better understand her. "But I'm going to do my best to help her. And you."

Finally, she looked up at Quixote and blew out a sigh. "We're going to have to stay here with them until they can both move on their own." There was, after all, no way that she and Qui could carry two fully-grown wolves back up the plateau themselves, and dragging the injured pair was out of the question. "I think we should bring Roz home with us too. That wound on her hip is going to need a lot of attention and I wouldn't feel right sending her out on her own when she can't walk."