Hoshor Plains To the rescue

Even through the distracting haze of fending off a pack of snapping coyotes, Invictus could still sense the fast-moving approach of something else behind her, and thought for a brief, terrifying, heart-stopping moment that it might be more mangy mutts rushing for her... However, as she turned to try and block the attack (to the best of her ability anyway), her eyes went wide at discovering another wolf was upon them, savagely attacking and tearing off the tan-pelted canine that assaulted her hindquarters and tossing it aside as if it were nothing more than a feeble pup.

The other was not taller than she, but their muscular frame and powerful movements promised them to be much, much stronger, and far more capable of fighting their attackers off, as shown by their movements. She took a brief moment to just watch the newcomer in action, jaw slightly agape as they mercilessly sliced open the face of one coyote, blood spewing from the wound like a crimson fountain, and effortlessly snapped the neck of another, ending the creature's pitiful existence with a cringe inducing crunch. It wasn't until she felt a set of fangs boldly snapping at her paw (aiming for the deer leg she still stood guard over), that she recalled having a fight of her own to deal with. The stranger was momentarily put aside and the willowy she-wolf whipped her head towards the coyote, peeled her lips back and lunging for its face with an aggressive snarl. The mongrel yelped fearfully and just barely missed having its muzzle bit, instead leaning away and only earning a painful gash on its nose, Invictus's jaws snapping shut with a clump but her teeth having managed to graze flesh all the same.

The final coyote whirled around at this assault and circled back so as to get some distance, then fearfully peered around at his fallen brethren, tucked his tail, and went running for the mountains, all sense of bravery completely drained from his mind when realizing this was a fight he would not be winning.

Invictus, now free from her burden and feeling somewhat triumphant (even if her companion had done most of the defending) spat in the fleeing creature's direction, a smug look on her face, then slowly turned to face the other. Instinctively, since she didn't know the cause for this stranger's act of heroism, she placed a defensive paw on her stolen meal, uncertain as to whether or not they intended to take it from her, now that the scavengers had been dealt with. Then, silver eyes quickly flew across the wolf's features, taking in all the details she needed to know so as to properly size this newcomer up... and that's when she saw all of the injuries.

There was a new one from the recent fight, yes, just atop her head where Invie had observed the other get grazed... but there were plenty of others as well, and quite notably old from what her experienced eyes told her. Noting the pus and inflammation, the irritated red skin just slightly visible through the other's dark fur, she gave a small wince. Just how old were these injuries, she wondered; how long had they gone without treatment?

"Your injuries... they need healing," she bluntly observed, eyes still flitting from wound to wound so as to indicate what she was talking about. Her gaze then seemed to grow distant as she mentally cycled through a list of herbs that might help.