Dawnlark Plains From the scars on my arms

but in a way, rala knew she was more than a fool, for she kept her distance when the stranger proved her lack of inclination towards the snowwoman's presence. a wolverine, she said, and the woman nodded. you should cover the wound, polar-cub advised. she was no healer, unlike her sister, tiri, but she had seen injuries such as this before.

airborne bacteria could make it worse. snow will help inflammation, nanuralaaq listed off what she knew with care, surveying the redness of the injury. winter would not help, although it's blanket may keep it cool. what she knew was that it must be washed, although it clearly would not be easy to walk upon. perhaps her aid would be permitted.

a sigh. i could help in covering - but i need to come closer, otherwise, what was she to do? leave her here, let her wound fester and rot? no, she would not allow it. perseverance was important, yes, but independence had never been a valuable trait within the cruelty of the north. it was reliance that had saved them from the deadliest of winters. togetherness, teamwork, partnership. and it will need washing.

please, allow me to help.