The Heartwood the comedy is that it's serious

Going to write an exit, since Holland is inactive.

"Thanks," Lane said, mirroring the medic's look of gratitude. They seemed to be getting along better now, probably because Lane had her wits about her once more. 

Lane nodded, burying her paw in the snow as Holland disappeared into the trees.

Maximally efficient by nature's design, very little heat escapes a wolf's pelt. But while the snow didn't melt as nicely as one would hope it would for cleaning purposes, the cold did produce a relieving, numbing effect. It also constricted the vessels, slowing Lane's bleeding and aiding in clotting. 

Shit, maybe Holland was right. Maybe the wound wouldn't require wrapping after all. Ugh, wasn't she going to feel like a dumbass, if the bleeding had already stopped on its own by the time Holland got back with the dressings.

Melaine's embarassment and anxiety mounted as the lonely moments dragged on. Her paw had stopped bleeding, and now she felt like an idiot for panicking to Holland. After a final glance around, she slipped quietly away into the charred underbrush.