Northstar Vale Right Beside You

He seemed impervious to pain—more unfazed by it than even she was as her empathy grew with each stolen glance at his blood-marked features. Guilt riddled her—had she left him to his own devices, he still might have been a mess taking on a porcupine, but likely not nearly as devastating as he was.

When they reached the stream she gave a sharp nod with her muzzle. “Sit,” she partially invited, partially ordered. Loping to the stream edge, she dipped the moss down, clenched gently between her teeth, and allowed it to soak up the water. It was the softest she could find—for with autumn, the foliage and plants were beginning to dry and become more brittle.

Sweeping back to him, she gently began to press the mood to his wounds, the silence of the cooler autumn air beginning to unsettle her in a certain way—winter was coming. And with this incident, she realized just how poorly prepped she was for herbs and medicines.

When the blood seeped through the moss, she would gently place it down, skeptically eyeing his face and wounds. “The bleeding is slowing,” she informed him, concern lacing her voice. “But I worry about infection.” She looked away from him then, glancing around, scouring the area with her gaze. “If I could find some marigold, it might help…”

He wouldn't have even been in this mess had he not crossed her path, likely.