Moonspear the return

She slowed as she heard a voice ring out behind her, and glanced over her shoulder to see Andalusia running to catch up. She wasn't all too familiar with the woman, but had heard enough from her sisters to know she was a loyal and capable member of their pack — her bearing of the name Ostrega helped position her favourably in the girl's mind too. While her tail waved in an amicable fashion, Lyra's features remained set in a look of grim determination. Charon's condition didn't seem immediately life-threatening, but infection could come about quickly, and she hated seeing her father in any sort of pain.

Andalusia was well-versed in herbs and healing she had been told, and the girl welcomed the second set of paws despite her possessive side wanting to snarl away any form of help. "I have marigold leaves, take them and anything else you think will help," she ordered breathlessly, retrieving several herbs from the hollowed out tree that served as her cache. The trip back from Morningside had been bountiful, her stores now full with a myriad of curious and helpful plants. Lyra now sorted through them with precision — horsetail to staunch the bleeding, marigold and dandelion for the pain, dried oak leaf to stop infection. She scooped up as many as she could carry in her jaws and gave a nod to her packmate, before tilting her head back and wrapping her muzzle several times in a spiderweb — also to help with the bleeding — that had formed in the low hanging branches above her cache, before she took off at a canter.

She passed Arcturus stalking away as she drew up to the rendezvous den, and noted the dark look etched onto his face. She rumbled a soft growl in his direction; don't do anything stupid. Whatever — or whoever — had done this would be found and dealt with soon enough.

She knew she needn't ask what happened; Hydra would relay the situation later. For now, Lyra concentrated on addressing Charon's injuries, the worst of which being the large gash across his eye. She walked up to his side with no hesitance in her stride, stopping just before him to deposit the herbs and the mess of cobweb she had brought with her. She shifted slightly to the left to allow her cousin to come up and drop her batch of plants too. "Your eye," she started, looking to her father's face and gazing studiously at his injury. The blood was old and dried, his eyelid sealed shut from the gore; it would be hard to tell the extent of the damage until it was cleaned. "Is it still...there?" Turning to look over at Amekaze, Lyra moved to allow her mother to clean the wound if she wished.