Ankyra Sound creature fear

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Threadbare and slipshod, Caiaphas flittered near Kierkegaard, her sharp little eyes resting on the abraded limb. With a dart she rose and swooped into another traceless tunnel, emerging several moments later with a broad shell cusped upward like some contorted hand -- and in the palm of it a cool, metallic seeming clay shook.

Kierkegaard's declaration of the raw wound's age drew forth a small frown, but she said nothing. Kierkegaard's wince as he drew the seaweed onto his limb was met only with a terse smile. She knew he was stronger than his current condition suggested, and offered no comforting words. She placed the shell gently by his side and trotted gaily off towards the other side of the cavern where a hulking aggregation of furs, stones and shells signified her bed. "The clay will keep infection out and draw forth whatever infection is in that leg." She spoke in a noncommittal tone, adjusting a frond of deer pelt forward so she could lie and face the male. "I bet the Plateau or the Spine looks inviting now." She said with a light cackle, resting her ugly muzzle on her paws as she watched him.