Moonspear the return

Now that Charon was stationary (seated, even), she felt more at ease with greater space between them and kept her worry at arm's length for the time. She worked to chase off the taste of his blood, and slowly, with a thoughtful sigh, she backed off so Lyra could have her space; Ame trusted that her daughter could finish whatever he needed. In the meantime, she had other matters.

In the instant that her mind began to whir over the possibilities of what could come, and who this enigmatic enemy of his was truly, some of it seemed more tantalizing than the rest. But her mate's grim countenance here before her kept the counterbalance strong enough to focus on him and, as he said, he could mend best on a full stomach. She would brew on this in private, doing well to remember that his foe had fled in the end.

And although she reigned back her all-consuming worry well enough, it was not so simple as that, even with the mantra to trust the medics and the care of it her daughters in her head. She finally nodded deeply, and traced the wounds again—memorizing, and contemplating, until she finally had to stop herself after meeting his eyes, quietly: I will be back. Maybe once the others had settled down some, and especially when it could be them. She would see to him.

In her silent way, she moved to collect her sons so that together, they could bring him something fresh and the rest could have their space.