Ankyra Sound Guess I was born to be a sinner

She was testing her leg.  Her wounds were healing, though the scabs were a mess to look at.  But as she attempted to place weight on the leg Helix's jaws had cracked, a sharp spike of pain erupted towards her shoulder and warned her off.

Rosalyn sat down with an irritated whump and sighed.  She'd never been the best at patient healing, and it wasn't something she figured she would ever get to be good at. She hoped not? Some things you didn't want to practice at.

Maybe she could wander the forest and find something useful for Erzulie.  The only problem was getting there but conversely the longer it took the longer she'd be occupied.  Decided, she set off at an easy limp to walk along the cliffs of the sound.

He'd been trying to fight off his anxiety reguarding the black forest for the last few hours, but hadn't managed to get too deep among the pines. The man's limping gait carried him out of the forest's edge in time to see the red-cast woman stagger her way along one of the natural paths, and his brows raised. She was struggling with her own injuries — and he could appreciate the strong desire within her, that nagging feeling that occurred when someone sat still for too long. They were similar in nature, at least when it came to their shared stubborn streak.

Without a sound, Firefly focused on the woman's path and followed after her. He was a few wolf-lengths behind her but it didn't take long for him to catch up, and once he had he let out a huff to alert her of his presence (as if his heavy steps would not have done so already). As he came up alongside her, Firefly gave her body a quick look-over, checking for strain or blood; really, he was focusing on her body rather than the dark forest out of necessity, because he was pretty close to losing his nerve.

Rosalyn heard steps and turned to look, good eye latching on to Firefly as he announced.   Ah.

She hadn't been seeking company, but she wasn't opposed to it either.  It would be good, too, to better get to know some of the wolves her wife held in high regard, and Firefly was definitely one of those.

Nice day for a stroll, she replied, noting his inspection with a little amusement.  Was he a healer also?  He had the look.  She did not recognize his fear for what it was, and misread it as concern.  I thought perhaps I'd find something to bring back for Erzulie, though what exactly I'll have to find it to see.  She looked at his limp, and her gaze turned slightly more serious.  Drageda?

She did not seem to be aware of is apprehension, which either meant he was hiding it well or it was of no concern to her; either way, he was glad she did not make light of it. As she spoke he made sure to listen attentively (hyper-focused, some councillors might call it), and found his mind trailing to thoughts of the battle as soon as she mentioned Drageda. However, he shook his head.

Older wound, he clarified, From when I was attacked by a cougar. I think. His ears shifted, pointed awkwardly away from his head as a sign of uncertainty. I don't remember much of the event, but the leg's been like that for as long as I can remember. And really, he didn't want to think about it.

I'll help you hunt though — he assured her, eager to have something to focus on that wasn't the deep dark of the woods or the potential dangers lurking in the shadows. They'd already found and removed one large cat, and he didn't want to tempt fate with the mention of another.

Ah, right.  He'd spoken of the cougar the first night they'd met, but they hadn't been moving for her to notice lasting damage.  If it had been so long ago then likely he would never walk naturally again, right?  She glanced at her own leg with a new worry.  Shit, she hoped that wasn't the case with her.  Perhaps after this she'd take it a bit easier.

She could read a diversion when she saw one and took it readily.  She didn't much care to hear details about his past and she didn't intend on sharing any of her own, but she'd definitely take his company.  Rosalyn wouldn't admit to some nerves herself, but if she ran across any sort of trouble she was fairly screwed.

Do you know much of forests? She asked, wondering if he'd be more use than she was even. I've traveled them, but most of my living has been near the sea. She did have an idea in mind, of what she'd like to find if she could.  It was a treasure a woman in her homeland has carried, and it popped into her mind rather suddenly.  Maybe it was she and Erzulie's talk previously that was bringing back these old memories.  Do you know where we might find turtles this time of year?

She took the prompt well, and moved the conversation away from things that made him uncomfortable. Until she mentioned the forest again, and the question made a cold sensation drift down his spine. The wolves that rescued me hid themselves deep in a forest, in a meadow which was hard to access actually. It was very open, and... Somewhat charming, he admitted this as he considered the small coven, finding that Willow's face popped in to his mind almost immediately.

But when Rosalyn mentioned something about turtles, his sentimentality dropped away, his mind cleared, and he gawked at her with a frown he didn't think to hide: What the hell is a turtle?

Hmm.  She didn't suppose she would have ever termed a home of hers as charming.  Maybe that was an appeal of the woods vs the shore? The packs who found them were softer, without the salt in their blood.  She doubted she would fit in such a place well, but it didn't sound terrible.  She wondered what caused him to leave but didn't bother asking.

Mainly because she was distracted by his next question.  She turned to look at him, clearly surprised.  You've never seen a turtle?  Dumb slow little creatures, hard shell?  Well there went that hope!  I remember there being a creek this way, if we find one I guess it'll be your lucky day.  Chances weren't great what with winter and all, but you never knew.

Slow, stupid, and with a shell? He imagined something like the shards of seashell he'd often investigate when the tide blustered across their claim's edge, and the mental picture of some kind of sluggish beast equipped with a hardened carapace made his frown deepen. But Rosalyn seemed to know what to look for, so he'd follow after her. As he fell in to step behind her, he found himself watching the way she moved with her own limp and grew a little bit concerned — she was putting a lot more weight upon her injury than she should've been, at least in his estimation.

"Slow and steady, that's the way," he heard Willow praising in his mind, only to be countered by the rougher voice of her brother Nettle, "He's a grown man, let him be!"

He didn't say anything as he followed her, their path winding through the wood until the unmistakable sound of creeping water came to his ears instead of the voices of his faraway friends.

She tried to keep her leg up as much as possible, but she'd misremembered how far the stream fell, and as she grew more tired it was unavoidable using the injured one.  Each time she did, it sent a jab of pain up, though she tried to keep it light as possible to avoid straining.

Eventually she heard the stream though, and as it came into view she shifted over, taking a brief sit to rest.  It isn't frozen, maybe we will be in luck. It had been slightly warmer.  If they are anything like frogs, they'll bury themselves in the mud, she added, remembering back to gathering trips.  Traveling alone for so many years had made her savvy in any meal that did not take effort, especially in winter.  Digging up a hibernating frog wasn't first choice, but it sure as hell beat starving.

The mention of frogs made a different memory surface, but it wasn't solid enough to make much sense. He saw flashes of gold, heard the pealing laughter of a young girl — it seemed so familiar for a split-second, and then it was gone. He was left with the sour taste of regret in his mouth, but didn't really know why. Firefly blinked that memory away as swiftly as it came, focusing on Rosalyn as she outlined what they'd be looking out for.

He nodded, but seemed a bit distant. The man kept pace with his injured packmate until the pair of them came upon a slough slick with muddied snow and some salt water caught in the reeds; this might've been a small pond at some point, but with the onset of winter its circumfrence had been obscured by the white depths and a sheet of ice. Somewhere among the mess might've been a morsel of food, but he wasn't sure where to start.

He went quiet again, which was fine by her.  Mostly because now that they were here, she had to figure out how to get her literally lame, three legged self down into the water.  She... hadn't thought of this.  And now was going to be thwarted in her goal by small details that yeah, should have crossed her mind.

Damn.  And it looked like it was frozen anyway.

Rosalyn let out an annoyed sound, something between a huff and a growl, and stepped up to the edge of the ice.  Hell, she cursed to herself, looking at it.  She couldn't even attempt to break the ice with her leg fucked up as it was.  Suppose not lucky then.  This she did direct at him.  Least she'd gotten a walk in.