Felltree Marsh fireton

it is anger that blooms in her chest when she finally turned away.

uncertain if she is angry at him, at who did or even at herself.

to spill his blood so freely! what could have brought this upon him? a survivalist voice tells her to leave him, that the earth will either take him or spare him. yet it is the thinking of asha that declined such an idea.

she did not go far. she knows that to bring back snow or ice to him, it cannot travel far. that it will melt upon her touch or mouth. so she shuffles what she can to him. ice that hung in the shade of logs, snow that piled in drifts from the taiga's wild winds over this place.

large paws worked and wondered if it was in vain.

with ice and snow haphazardly piled near his muzzle, she resumed cleaning his wounds.