Nova Peak blutbefleckt

—die.

A vice grip slammed her heart against her ribs when she spotted Mahler on the ground, even though his head remained up. The sheer weight of the brief thought of his death brought her nearly to her knees, causing her to visibly stagger between the trees. Then his eyes, frosted heliotrope and paled by a fog she didn't like to see in them, rose to hers and she scurried to his side.

Everything he instructed went against her base nature—despite his chosen profession, Wylla wasn't sure she believed that putting plants on a wound did anything. Nevertheless, she did as she was told, plucking up the white flowers and chewing them dutifully. The taste was terrible. More than once she almost spat them out, and probably would've if it was any lesser wolf lying there, but this was the only wolf she'd ever loved besides her children, and probably the only one she ever would. For him, she chewed and pushed past the bitter drops on her tongue.

It was a clumsy effort, but she managed to pack at least half of the makeshift salve into his wound, wincing with every touch from how much she bet it hurt. Next she rose and gathered moss from the seaward side of a fallen tree, worrying whether being rainsoaked would make it ineffective. She did her best, holding a clump gingerly between her teeth and giving her head a vicious shake. It would have to do. Finally, she gathered the leaves up and chewed those, too, eyes stinging as the punch of acrid flavour seared across her tongue. Fuck. How did he do this for a living?

No time for her sarcastic comments or complaints. She pressed the paste into the wound too, then swiped her tongue across his coat in an effort to rid herself of the taste. Her heart beat slow in her chest as she waited for something miraculous to happen, but Mahler only laid his head down and looked even worse than he already did. Whistling a whine through her nose, Wylla curled up beside him and pressed her nose to his cheek, his brow, swept her tongue over his eyes and prayed to all the gods she'd never believed in that they would do her just this one boon, and spare his life.

Please, Mahler, she wheezed, don't leave me.