Honeyed Pasture loser

how he had dragged himself from the glacial coast, asmodeus did not know. for his hubris, frostbite had taken the left dewclaw of a foreleg. it festered as he walked, until pain stiffened the muscle and he was forced to limp.

only sheer bullhearted stupidity kept the reptile moving forward, and that gave out in a huge snowcovered meadow. asmodeus was toppled into the drifts, and he curled there as agony pulsated along his injured ankle, thinking how undignified this death would be.

The scent of another draws her away from @Sarthorn, and as she tracks the fresh trail she notes the faint stink of rot mingled with it. Her brother will not be pleased, she knows, but Nesini has always had a bleeding heart. Where she can help, she will, and here she knows she would be of more use than most. So she follows the scent until her gaze lands on the pale form curled up in the snow.
You'll freeze to death like that before the infection takes you, She says as she approaches, head lowering slightly as she draws near. She halts and sniffs a few times in his direction, nose wrinkling. Smells pretty nasty. I can help.

he had almost resigned himself to the reality of it, eyelids growing heavier in response, but asmodeus was disturbed.

of course. wasn't that always the way. can't even die without being interrupted.

"help with what? something you spit on me? don't want it. not into that," the snake hissed, grunting as a fresh anguish washed over him.

Prickly, for a man in such desperate need of help — and ignorant, too, it seems. She frowns. What, you think I get off on chewing up bitter herbs so I can spit them on random assholes? I wouldn't ask in that case, It makes no sense to her. The infection will eventually take your leg, if it doesn't take your life first. So which one are you hoping to choose over being spit on — three-leggedness, or death? She's never been much suited to giving the gift of mercy herself, but Sarthorn is only a quick call away. She glances briefly over her shoulder, wondering if she ought to call for him now; to restrain her patient, if she decides to make him such against his well, or to end his misery if he truly wants it.

Sorry... but I'mma barging in?

@Trench had bid his goodbyes, and Argent was on his way to the mountains. The mother bear refrained from following after her children or checking on them, but it did not stop the even more weary flicker of worry that bore in her heart with @River’s lengthy absence as well.

And so she drifted from the isle she sought to claim, telling herself that it would not be overbearing should she happen upon one of her brood by chance. Of course, such was not what would happen this day, and her sharp gaze fell upon two individuals—one the pale of snow, the other, the warmth of the sun.

Coiling forward with confident grace, the sylph looked between the two, halting a respectful distance, and yet openly not hiding her presence from either of them.

OI!!! THERE YE ARE. Belharra roared, barging right into the collection of wolves without much propriety. She’d been looking everywhere for this idiot - and here he was in the snow like a sodden rat. 

Belharra glanced from him to his closest companion and grinned. Oh, not innerupting somethin’ am I? This one of your ... conquests? Belharra didn’t wait for an answer before she needled her way right through, sniffing at Asmodeus’ offensive digit with a crinkled face. Well, that’s just nasty. She announced to the assembly, looking from the golden backed wolf to the cream hued female that had arrived shortly before Belharra had. Alright. Who’re all of ye?

assface is now skippable for further rounds!

before asmodeus could muster another retort to the golden thing that clapped back at him, another wolf appeared. if his dick hadn't been all but frozen solid, the pale man might have been incredibly charmed to be surrounded by women.

"oh my fucking god!" the man groaned instead, laying back in the snow to let them do whatever they wanted. no energy remained to foist them off.

until belharra barrelled into their midst, bringing the man's flagging muzzle up again. "don't want anything," he mumbled to her, moments before throwing up the tiny contents of his stomach and fainting dead away as the remaining bit of his strength was bled out by fever burning beneath his skin.

Skipping to keep this moving, as was requested by participants when I joined the thread.

Whatever shit-show Ketzia had stumbled upon, she held a certain array of amusement for it, though it was far outstayed by annoyance. The injured party swore—something she could relate with—before passing out, and the golden she-wolf who had been near him only moments before had seemingly fallen silent.

A dark girl was not—and with frayed nerves at the barrage of demands, Ketzia felt the flare of her hackles, her eyes set with the hint of disdain as she took a step toward the fallen wolf, ignoring the drill of questions. “How about we give him some space,” she hummed, her smoky voice lifting to an authoritative height she felt necessary to the situation. If the scenario continued to spiral, she would simply leave—but not without trying to give the poor man some breathing room, first.

Her gaze flicked to the pale wolf, her nose flaring with the knowledge of infection in the air. She was no healer—and her heart banged at the thought of Mahler, upon the lonely mountains he refused to abandon.

Normally when Belharra barged on the scene, she got a better reception than ‘instantly upchucks and passes out’. Belharra lifted her closest leg away from the steaming pile, responding with an indelicate Ew. Reminder: stay away from Asmodeus’ mouth. Not that she was planning on voyaging such disastrous claptraps in the future. 

Anyways, vomit aside. Belharra figuratively smoothed out her skirtings, notching her gaze at Ketzia as the female stepped towards them. Even from a distance Belharra could see the woman’s hackles were flared, and her voice demanding. Narrowing her gaze Belharra placed a paw possessively on her fallen comrade’s shoulder (taking care to stay away from the more volatile ends). No. Belharra answered, sniffling audibly as she measured how this was all going to go down. The odds weren’t great in her favor. She didn’t know if they knew Asmodeus, but she wasn’t going to let him be molested by two loners in the woods.

Seeing no way out of it, Belharra figured she would have to let her world-famous mouth get her out of this. Diplomatically.  Are you always this bossy to total strangers?

wrapping this up <3

when he returned to consciousness, it was the muzzy face of @Belharra that swung above his own. 

and it was her only he heeded, staggering up despite the fever, trusting the one individual in all these years who had ever provided the reptile with a sense of consistency. funny thing, that.