Bearclaw Valley In this world, it's just us

they won't be comin' back, cole said, and that gave nanuralaaq the slightest bit of reassurance. nonetheless, her face was that of worry, scanning the dried, crusting blood that stuck to his oaken fur. is this yours, or coyotes? she asked. it would need to come off eventually, preferably within a lake, rather than at the disposal of someone's tongue. she did not wish to subject someone to such a metallic taste, nor the potential health risks that could come with accidentally ingesting it.

his wounds were not severe, however ; a gash upon his shoulder and a bite upon his flank. such things could be easily remedied, as they were shallow, a result of the small teeth of coyotes. a layer of snow would do any possible inflammation good, and it would keep the wound cool. similarly, should it come off, it would likely take the dried blood with it, and so she would say, lie down, and dig at the snow with her paws.

an explanation left her pale maw, words, unrestrained, spilling from her lips: i am putting snow on wounds. it will prevent inflammation ; keep them cool, and act as a barrier between injuries and airborne disease, rala said, drawing the softest of snows towards her, forming a pile to work with and dab on to his body. and i will rub it into dry blood, so you do not have to walk all ways to the lake for a bath. easier this way, for you and me. she wondered, then, if there was a true healer here for him to visit, or if he would be stuck with the polar-cub and her homemade remedies.