Bonesplinter Ravine his betrayal is overwhelming

redhawks. heron lake plateau. despite the boy's stumble over and slight butcher of the word wintersbane is able to infer what he means without trouble. he's familiar enough with the territory, though it comes to some surprise to hear that a pack has claimed it. redhawks also rings something of a bell: he heard it in passing when war had been nigh on the horizon for moonspear and blackfeather woods ...but perhaps it is a branch off, he thinks, for hadn't they been called redhawk caldera? or something of that sort. nevertheless, wintersbane is glad that he's old enough to be able to name the pack and it's territory. that was extremely helpful ...and not too terribly far away. a few hours walk from the ravine. well, he corrects himself, a few hours walk for him. the injured boy would take longer and likely need breaks for rest, food and water. providing, of course, the boy let the pathfinder tend to his wounds, first. if he didn't try to counteract the nasty infections going on, get him fresh water and some food he could very well not survive the night.

it was a grim situation and not one that the tundrian can say he's ever came in contact with before.

the boy displays a bought of stubbornness that, while childish and naive in his argument, gives wintersbane hope that the ebony boy's fight is far from over. hold onto that stubbornness. it may just keep you alive, wintersbane thinks but shifts his weight, a terse frown tugging at the corners of his lips as his ears cup back to rest at half mast atop his skull. "those infections are pretty nasty," the tundrian speaks, his tone both calm but austere. "as i said, you're in not fit state to travel and i'm afraid to say that without some kind of treatment i wouldn't make it to the plateau and back in time for her to treat you." he tries to put it as ...delicately as he can. he doesn't necessarily want to scare the boy but he presses a bit harder than he had originally for the boy to allow him to do something about the infections at least.

the relief wintersbane feels is palpable when the boy finally agrees to it all: to medicines, to food, to water, to rest ...though it appeared to be the promise of food that had ultimately won him over. "first thing is first, we need to get you out of this cold, wet mud and someplace dry. there's a small cavern just over there —," the pathfinder gestures towards the cavern mouth a few feet away with a small motion of his head. "i'll have to leave for a little bit to find what i need for your wounds and to hunt you something to eat. the cavern'll keep you hidden from the crows and other prowling beasts and you can rest while i hunt." it's a precaution, the scent of infection might ward them off alone; and beyond that particular advantage of the cavern, wintersbane still wants to move him somewhere dry where he can rest. "can you walk?" he inquires then.