Heron Lake Plateau If you can use a doorknob

As he spoke, casually brushing off his injuries and the fact that he'd obviously fallen off a fucking cliff, Raven gave him a look -- clearly unimpressed with his attempt to put her at ease. She could smell blood, its sharp and cloying fragrance easily detectable through the soft, earthy musk of his usual scent, so she wasn't deceived. One had to get up pretty early in the morning to fool a seasoned medic like her, after all. ;)

"Oh, honey," she said in a rueful tone of mixed chastisement and worry. "Thank you, but...hold still. Let me look at you." Despite the fact that her roleplayer already knew he would fuss and put up a fight like the cantankerous old man that he was, Raven nevertheless looked him over, nosing and prodding him in places where it probably hurt. She could see dark, wet streaks here and there in his sable fur, and some of them were bloody scrapes while others were only areas where he'd gotten wet somewhere along the way. She shook her head and tsked with disapproval as she took stock of his various bruises and wounds, but deep down, she was touched that he would put himself through so much to provide for her and the children that grew in her ever-widening belly.