Emberwood let's have some fun this beat is sick

In all truth, the girl was not okay - but she was lucky. An inch more and the bite would have hit her jugular. At that point, even her parents, for all their years of experience, couldn't have helped her. Dhalia's job would have been to collect the herbs to embalm her. She had prepared for that when the silvered man had found her, frantic and on his way to the Creek she just come from. Her only hope was that the golden girl - Reverie, they called her - had still been breathing, heart beating, when she'd arrived.

So she'd set to work.

The air was laden with heavy spice when she finally stepped away, her own paws caked with blood and heavy with exhaustion, but her job had only just begun here. 

Funny, how her old life came knocking the moment she thought she might find some place to settle.

Thank you, she said to the coywolf she took for Reverie's mate, by the way he hovered, like she'd seen many do. My parents must have thought so too. They lucked out when they realized smashing my grandparent's names together was also the name of a flower. They're healers, too. They had taught her everything she knew.

Dhalia hooked a used cobweb with her paw, one of the many blood soaked ones around the bed. Dusty Rose, right? Idly, she wondered who he'd been named for. Help me bring these outside the den. Once we wash our paws, we'll gather more so we're ready to redress her wound. Come, she said softly, with a glance Reverie's way, and hoped the coywolf would listen. It would be good for her to busy him with something he could do for Reverie, now that she was stabalized. More than just lingering around. Your wife needs her sleep.