Herbalists' Cache If I could, begin to be

With Cyne's nose still lowered towards the herb flourished ground, fawn auditoriums swiveled backwards on her crown and towards a startling voice. It was of masculine origins, and they seemed to call out her name with crisp farmiliarity — like they already knew who she was; 'Cynefrid'. The damsel's head lifted and quickly turned to discover this voice's owner, her lips curling into a smile of genuine relief. "Calhoun!" Cynefrid turned to the young male and trotted towards them with her tail swaying happily. Another member of Kingslend found at last, and how refreshing it was to see them once more. 

"Calhoun dear, it is good to see that you've made it out alive! Are you hurt anywhere? And where's your sister?" No time was wasted scanning the he-wolf thoroughly for any injuries caused by the firey devastation, and surely enough, one quick swoop around his left side would reveal burn marks. They were not bad enough to be considered fatal to Cyne's relief, but the medic still frowned upon seeing it. A wishful thought that Friede's lack of singe marks would mean most of the others were not as affected either initially came to mind, but this didn't seem to be the case for Cal. This would perhaps mean that Cyne could be dealing with injuries of varying severity whenever she'd come in contact with the others — and it was best to prepare for it soon. "Don't worry, I can patch this up for you..." the doe said in a soft, gentle voice of reassurance, brows knitted from concern.