Ankyra Sound VIII. Standing in the back door crying, now you're going to need a friend.

a small wolf that called herself a medic appeared, throwing out some advice. they now had a solid little group of wolves caring for the new mother, and things seemed to be. . .better. not good, yet. but better.

surya shook out the now-clean clump of moss, the water streaming down his limbs, and padded over to the main event once more. gently, he placed the plant beside the silver woman, who rested beside the patient, dealing with herbs surya had only thought of as pretty foliage. how could he have known their powers?

i. . .need to go, he admitted, looking as ashamed as he felt. a friend of mine is missing; i followed her scent here and there is—there's blood. i think she's in trouble. i don't—i'm sorry. he cast apologetic looks all around, his eyes finally landing on the young, unconscious she-wolf. when i find her, i'll return. my friend is a healer; she could help, too.

please. . .don't die, he silently pleaded, blinking down at the nursing pups. mother or children.

with stiff legs he departed, returning to the end of aphrodite's scent-journey here. like a bloodhound, he followed it away from the sound—his mind pulled in two places all the while.