Wheeling Gull Isle suffering

she repeats the word 'yarrow' back at him, yeah, that's right. yarrow. he murmurs with a nod, watching with concern now as she teeters on the edge of passing out again. her own concern was valid: he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't open worse if she moved but he also knows that she couldn't stay here. she'd die of dehydration. its a risk, he doesn't lie to her. brisbane's a lot of things but never a liar. but it's either take the risk and live or die of dehydration. maybe he could learn to be a bit more sensitive but he doesn't see the point in candy coating dire situations either. she deserved to know the stakes she was gambling with, if she didn't already.

but she's already pushing herself to her paws only to collapse. c'mon, you can do it. he encourages her. he's been there before. true, his wounds hadn't been on his shoulder and hadn't affected his ability to walk but they'd affected his ability to eat and drink. he remembered the blinding pain he'd felt every time he tried to chew or open his muzzle to weakly lap half-heartedly at the water; but he'd pushed through because he had a pack to lead, he had siblings and a mother to care for, because the pain was preferable to wasting away and dying.

brisbane watches as she struggles to her paws once more, and offers himself as support as she leans against him. we'll take it slow. let me know if you need to stop or anything. 'it wasn't far' probably felt a lot like a thousand miles away to her at the moment and brisbane didn't want to push her too much.