Dawnlark Plains Got no time to waste, I'm already late

When he's done spreading the paste, he wipes the last of it from his muzzle with one foreleg and returns to grooming Midar. This time he avoids the male's wounds, focused on gently cleaning and soothing his lover. He doesn't say anything, or try to touch him too much for fear of jostling his wounds, but he lingers near as he grooms him. It occurs to him that Midar is very lucky for these circumstances; lucky he'd been on his way home with herbs, lucky he'd decided to detour to work out his strange feelings. He resists the urge to voice this thought. He'll bring it up later, perhaps — or not at all, if only to very thoroughly avoid any mention of his recent activities.