Hoshor Plains Come on girl, don't leave me hanging

He remained silent while she processed things, nodding here and there when she pointed things out. He probably expected this kind of reaction from her, especially with the conversation they had right before he left. And when she asked for an explanation, he offered the story without any hesitation. He had fallen. In a hole. She could only surmise that it must have been accident. surely he wouldn't have wandered into a field of holes if he had known how unstable the ground was. Instantly, she realized how much worse things could have been. Her eyes glistened again and she drew in a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She closed whatever space still remained between them, and very gently tucked her head beneath his jaw. She was careful not to press against him too much, afraid she might hurt him. But she needed to feel him and reassure herself that he was here and was, for the most part, okay. How far did you fall and how long ago did it happen? she asked next, her words quiet and her tone softening quite a bit, although heavy with worry. What if he had internal injuries? Things she couldn't so easily heal? She couldn't help but feel like he might be taken away from her, and it terrified her. But he didn't need to know that right now. She just wanted him to feel like he was taken care of. 

She pulled back a little. We should go to the den so I can work on your wounds, she suggested. Meet me there. I'm going to get some water to clean the one on your face. She turned and hurried away, not wanting to be away from him any longer than was necessary. There a small stream nearby, thankfully, and she pulled a few pieces of moss from a rock near the water's edge. She dipped each one into the water and held it there for a few seconds. When each piece was saturated, she clasped them all gently between her jaws and quickly headed back to the den.

Assuming Emrik had listened to her instructions and was waiting there for her, she stopped in front of him and dropped the soggy moss at their feet. Can you sit down and lower your head some? she asked. I want to rinse out your infected wound before I put anything in it, she explained. I'm sorry, she added gently. It's probably going to be uncomfortable. Assuming he continued to do as she asked, she picked up a piece of moss, held it over the angry wound and clamped down with her teeth so that the water ran over the festering tissue. She repeated the process two more times. When she was done, she met his gaze, her own filled with concern. Are you okay? she asked, eyebrows drawing together a little. She hated that she had to cause him more pain, but she needed to clean the wound or her plants would do no good.