Stone Circle Rage and Grief beset

She didn’t shame him for his grief, but she did not offer him empty platitudes either. Faun focused her efforts on mopping up the blood soaked fur of the boy, pressing moss into the wounds to soak it up, before she would go in with a mixed bag of herbs.

Over and over again she would do this, packing the wounds that needed it with the herbal mixtures to stave off the infection she could smell coming. She strung cobwebs across those wounds, binding them tight.

Then, it came to the leg.

She paused for a moment, staring at the ankle, twisting her head this way and that.

Hold him.

She managed to set the ankle with a few deft strokes, several cobwebs and a nearby stick she dragged in and used her teeth to chop to bits. The process was quick, but the boy reacted, bucking like a mule, snarling like a feral thing, reacting only to the pain he could feel. Faun would manage this as well as she could, staring into that single, feverish eye as it looked at her face, the face of the boy’s father, between them both, before it rolled back and he was gone all over again.

She took a step back.

I have done what I can do externally. My best guess? A fall is what messed up that ankle. He might have broken ribs on that side, but I can’t ask him without him being awake. The thought of rousing the boy only to ask a few questions rankled her.

Or.. She reached over, gently pressing her nose to his ribs. Again, a kick, a strangled cry of pain.

Either bruised or broken. Play it safe, call it broken. The woman stepped back, looking over the boy with pity. She drew a gentle breath.

Its up to him. He has to pull through. If he survives tonight, I’ll bet he sees the next day. But, if he would pull the night through, she could not say definitively.

Whatever did this to him..I don’t want to meet it.

The rips in his haunches alone spoke of a bloodlust she didn’t want to put into words.