Sleeping Dragon i could feel it from the start, couldn't stand to be apart

Perhaps encouraged (one way or the other) by Gyda's visit, the fleimkepa decided to try to stop feeling sorry for herself— at least for the day. Her wounds were still healing, slowed by the lack of fresh red meat or healer, and she was far weaker than she had ever been. If she were to remain listless in her den, Magpie would be accepting and even inviting her death. It was a small pilot light in her breast, but the desire to continue living was there and enough to get her moving despite her injuries.

It was slow going. Her hind leg limped, and her muscles were unused to the movement. Her ribs still felt bruised, and she paused often to regain her breath— for she needed to breath shallowly, else risk a lancing pain that radiated from her side to her spine.

She had no destination or goal in mind. Her focus was only on this step, and then the next. It was a meditation of sorts, something that could consume her focus so that she needn't address the deeper psychological injuries.

Having the greenery stripped clean by the locusts had put the packs on their toes. Injuries were harder to treat, and because of this the wolves who had come across injury were recovering slowly. The coywolf was still new; the sweet tenor of his voice had yet to cross each Dragon’s ear. He had set himself to work the minute he had been allowed entrance into the pack. Each day had been spent in search of minor herbs that were still salvageable. He had even tiptoed his way to the Oceanside once or twice for more a more difficult find. It kept him remarkably busy and out of trouble for a short while.
 
The lithe figure of the coywolf picked his way across the expanse of land with a peculiar thought on his mind. His canary-colored gaze travelled the stretch that was before him only to lock on a form that appeared entirely foreign to him. Dark lips curling, the slender male trekked forward until he could scent the wolf at his head. This one was new.
 
Ochre-tinged ears darted forward before falling back to his skull, and Gluskap followed the laborious movements of this dark creature with complete curiosity. “You do not look well,” his voice hissed through the air in the direction of Magpie. His sharp gaze locked with the form of the other wolf hungrily.

She ignored the stranger's approach, focused on her own labored movements— she knew by now that Drageda's borders were secure, and any wolf that approached would be of the pack. Magpie only turned her head to look at the male when he spoke, her green eyes dulled by pain. She didn't recognize him, but perhaps saw the mischievous hunger in his eyes; something she wasn't in the mood for, though she had to admit she was glad for some fresh company.

"I've never felt better, actually," she said dryly. "Fasting and bear attacks are quite rejuvenating." Of her mental ailments, Magpie said nothing. It was too personal, too embarrassing, too out of character. The emotions felt alien in her body, and if her physical body were in better shape she might have opted to run from them— not back to the Corvidae, for it was too late for that, but to perhaps start somewhere new. Somewhere fresh, without the weight of unrequited love and jealously. Somewhere where she could be the Magpie she recognized.

The hunger in his gaze was not simply derived from the lack of food in his skeletal body. It was from the injuries that seemed to coat the body of this peculiar woman. Her dark coat was smattering in markings that suggested she had seen some difficult trials. Glu only wanted to aid. His sharp eyes trailed the markings on her frame for a moment before her response struck his lengthy ears. Then, the canary eyes of the coywolf darted to her tired expression and he frowned. "A bear?" he echoed with lifted brows. A feat indeed. And for her to have come away without giving her life was truly marvelous. 

"I could assist you, yes? Your wounds interest me," Glu remarked with a wild spark in his gaze. There was no reason to coat his words in anything other than truth. His purpose in the Dragon's homeland was to tend to the wounded. If he found himself drawn to such things, it could not be helped. If she were to decline his request then she would only suffer more. But he was a a witch doctor and he believed he could heal all. 

She has healing broken ribs, and a long gashes healing in her left hind leg. About 2.5 weeks ago, with some treatment the day of but not much since.

She did not move as he came towards her, quick like lightning on his feet— she could not have escaped had she wanted to. Magpie watched him warily, saying nothing as he tittered on in an odd cadence. Had she the energy, the Corvidae might have found it unsettling. He seemed genuine enough now that they were speaking, and even if he meant ill, she couldn't see herself being much worse off than she was now. Even death would be welcome; a dark thought that seemed natural now, but would have horrified her a month ago.

"It wanted my rabbit," she explained. "It seemed content with that."

He seemed more interested in the injuries themselves than their reason for existing, however, and she merely shrugged in response. He could do as he willed, for she cared little for her life at present. Magpie felt herself unworthy of Thuringwethil's trust, and thought this lapse would close her from it, forever; if she could not earn it again, she couldn't hope to lead her own wolves in the future. The Corvidae could only see a bleakness in the days ahead, and she doubted that the healing of her physical wounds would be a balm to it. If she couldn't have her dreams, she wanted nothing at all. If he wanted her death, she would not fight it— and if he wanted her to heal, she would welcome it just as easily.

As he peered curiously at the markings on her body, his thin leathery lips curled upwards. The gashes seemed deep enough but they were already on a slow and steady path to healing. He breathed in the stench that came from an open wound and reveled in it for a heartbeat before pulling away to inspect the rest of her being. He assumed that with gashes like that, she was certain to have something more courtesy of the bear. Without even questioning her or obtaining permission. His nose pressed to her hind leg and he worked his way along her sides until he stuck his nose into her ribs and felt them give. It was certain to cause her mild pain but Glu would be able to move on. 

"A rabbit?" he inquired almost absent-minded of what she was saying. But he paused after a moment and chuckled softly. "But not a wolf?" Someone was smiling on her that day. With the famine... that a bear would merely want a hare and not a wolf to quench its hunger. Casting the thought aside, he continued his inspection and concluded with a short huff. 

Peering at her with intent citrine eyes, Glu parted his mouth to speak to the dark woman and found himself transfixed by her eyes for a moment. It would have been nice to have a pair like that. "I can chew you something for the gashes. It'll take a day to get to you since the greens are hard to come by. And I can wrap your ribs in seaweed to keep pressure if you don't mind looking a tad odd," he instructed with an expectant expression on his gaunt face. 

"Is there anything more? You seemed troubled by many things when I sighted you," he probed with a curious smirk on his narrow lips. 

She was not unaccustomed to the invasiveness of healers; it was their trade to be so, else they'd not find the ailments of their patients and would be unable to treat them. And so Magpie endured his attentions with a grim set of her jaw, inhaling sharply as he neared the tender wound on her hind leg, then loosing a whimper despite herself as he prodded her ribs. Though she peeled her lips back and growled in a low complaint, the fleimkepa made no aggressive movements toward him— he did as he must.

"I didn't think to ask," she said, again with her previous dry humor. It didn't seem important to mention that there had been two other wolves with her; the story didn't seem to matter as much to the fellow as her wounds did. She looked back at him easily, perhaps even sternly. It was she that was the dominant wolf here, though he didn't know it, but she didn't bother correcting the boldness of his gaze. "Do what you need to," she commanded. If that meant she'd be slain and eaten due to incurable infection, so be it.

She fell silent at his next question, one that startled her, and she nearly turned away to hobble back to her den. But she wouldn't be able to escape him, and it was refreshing to have someone new and unattached to talk to. "Are you able to cure ailments of the mind?" Magpie queried, only partially joking. "Make the uncertain certain? I feel like an alien in my own skin." She didn't elaborate.

 
There was little shame in what the coywolf did. He had trailed after Kaliska for a large portion of their lives and she had only left his side within the last year. She had truly had a knack for herbs and a vast knowledge of the healing world. Gluska had spent enough time dotingly at her side to have learned a large chunk of her trade for himself. While her games did very little to titillate the copper-tipped wolf, her sharp mind had been something of an inspiration to him. It was the only reason he had found his way into the Sleeping Dragon brood in the first place. Without it, the dark-furred leader would have probably turned him away from her carefully guarded borders. Instead, she had opened a door.
 
The present ink-coated wolf seemed to have given him the green light in regards to her healthcare. He bobbed his head once or twice with enthusiasm that would have more appropriately matched a child. With the permission to treat her wounds, the unknown woman would have opened another door for the mischievous skeletal male. Time spent with others allowed for more words to pass between them. He would need to know his fellow pack mates before they would allow his practice…
 
At the mention of what else may have ailed her, she seemed to take on a different sort of approach. Before, she had reacted with nonchalance and indifference. While her humor had been dry and caustic, the trouble that seemed to have clouded her mind was something that did not bring about a trenchant comment. Instead, she inquired to him about the capabilities he had with the mind. Another door; this one, however, was the most stimulating.
 
“The mind is tricky,” he responded in an eager voice. His eyes widened a bit as he scanned her figure once more. “Trickier than the body, that is certain.” The wounds she had received from the bear would leave her with physical scars and a chance that she would fear the hulking and hairy beasts, but the damage that could be caused mentally had a chance to change her forever. “You feel uneasy? Lost, perhaps?” the cadaverous male squinted at her through a single eye.
 
“I can help you,” he spoke with a strange certainty. While this was something that could very well prove to be untrue, Gluskap’s morbid curiosity did not allow for him to deny her. “I know of herbs to soothe the mind. Relax the spirit. But if it is beyond the healing powers of mere plant life, it may require a more verbal treatment,” Glu warned her, still squinting through a single, glinting yellow optic. After a long pause, his face cracked into an open-mouthed grin and he chortled lightheartedly. “But we’ll discuss that later. I’m certain I’ll be seeing quite a bit of you.” His ivory canines peeked from underneath his lips.