Herbalists' Cache If I could, begin to be

Tagging: @Calhoun

The fawn colored woman moved along the damp, muddy foliage floor in long, graceful steps. Her side-to-side head movements seemed frantic as if she'd been running from an unseen danger — in reality, her movements were only rushed and desperate; desperate to find a scent trail. Hopefully one that lead to another member of her home pack.
Cynefrid already managed to locate Friede not too long ago, so there was still hope that the others were not too far ahead. 

In the meantime, the doe couldn't help but become fond with her current whereabouts. A wide variety of medicinal plants, such as snakeroot and marigold, could be found here as well as a variety of mushrooms which - while being beyond her knowledge on what they did - might've held potential. Cynefrid's search for Kingslend was still on, but she'd definitely take her time in remembering this place.

His journey carried him onwards. It seemed that he was too late for whatever pack laid out here, there were scents, but all had been washed by the rain. Something amongst the smells had seemed familiar, but with all this cursed rain there was no deciphering it no matter how much Cal sniffed around...so he continued on.

Brewster seemed to be far behind now, it had been unintentional to wander so far, but the High Elk had brought him this far surely he would survive until they reunited. Though, his uncle's paw was worse than his own burns. Calhoun liked to believe his own were healing and it was perhaps the only use for the non-stop downpour from the heavens. He was cold and soaked to the bone but at least his burns were soothed if only temporary.

Eventually, his paws led him to a thickly wooded area with an abundance of plants. Most of them were unfamiliar, but he never was a healer. Pausing to sniff at some foreign foliage, the Déorwine heard a rustle nearby. His head shot up, red gaze scanning until it fell on a light color woman dusted with white. Cynefrid—?

With Cyne's nose still lowered towards the herb flourished ground, fawn auditoriums swiveled backwards on her crown and towards a startling voice. It was of masculine origins, and they seemed to call out her name with crisp farmiliarity — like they already knew who she was; 'Cynefrid'. The damsel's head lifted and quickly turned to discover this voice's owner, her lips curling into a smile of genuine relief. "Calhoun!" Cynefrid turned to the young male and trotted towards them with her tail swaying happily. Another member of Kingslend found at last, and how refreshing it was to see them once more. 

"Calhoun dear, it is good to see that you've made it out alive! Are you hurt anywhere? And where's your sister?" No time was wasted scanning the he-wolf thoroughly for any injuries caused by the firey devastation, and surely enough, one quick swoop around his left side would reveal burn marks. They were not bad enough to be considered fatal to Cyne's relief, but the medic still frowned upon seeing it. A wishful thought that Friede's lack of singe marks would mean most of the others were not as affected either initially came to mind, but this didn't seem to be the case for Cal. This would perhaps mean that Cyne could be dealing with injuries of varying severity whenever she'd come in contact with the others — and it was best to prepare for it soon. "Don't worry, I can patch this up for you..." the doe said in a soft, gentle voice of reassurance, brows knitted from concern.

Before he could even process the other Déorwine, Cynefrid had already pranced over to hover and circle around him. I'm alright just— that. At least she seemed confident in fixing it, he hadn't been too worried about where the flames licked his side, but he was hoping for a healer to assess his judgment as well. It's not that bad, I'm sure you can patch me up good as new.

Then there was his sister... He hadn't seen Corliss amongst the flames, but he knew of their parents' fate. An almost annoyed frown spread over his maw, No word of her, I'm betting she's just lagged behind, maybe even beat me out. I'm afraid I can not say the same for our parents though.

I marked this particular post for mature just incase because "minor gross detailed wound treatment stuff" lmao. Let me know if you want me to edit anything out.

Cynefrid went to work quickly and gathered the herbs needed to begin his healing process. The pus fluids and blood that would have seeped out of any fresh burn wound seemed to already dry out and scab over. It was aged — thankfully healing  properly on it's own, but still needed to be manually cleaned if she wanted to prevent any future infections. She'd lower her head to where the injury was and gently begin licking at it, scrunching her muzzle at the metallic tang of dried blood. It was not a pleasant taste on the tounge and an alternative would be to allow Calhoun to dip himself in water instead, but Cyne didn't wish to send him off just for her sake. She had a job to do.

After the doe was satisfied with the way it looked so far, she'd start gathering a bunch of nettle leaves hidden in the grasses to chew up into a paste — hopefully it would help prevent infection. Ears were lent while she worked with busy paws at the mention of his family. It would appear as if Corliss had not returned yet, which worried her, and that Zephrine and Osmond had sadly succumbed to their injuries. Hearing this made the doe freeze and look away in dissapointment — maybe she was wrong, the high elk didn't wish for everyone to escape to safety. "I'm sorry for your parents, Calhoun. And while I don't know of your sister's whereabouts, I'm sure she'll appear sooner or later...."

Cynefrid took no time in moving to his side, lapping at the crusted over burns that tarnished his skin, even if it only be slight. His reddened gaze drifted away to avoid the healer as she worked. A sigh escaped him as she tried to console him, and while he cared about their passing it was not the High Elk's plan. It was not meant to be. They knew that they had me carry on without them. Perhaps they knew that only he and Corliss were meant to survive, wherever his sister may be. One thing was for certain, he was sure she wasn't dead. He truly believed she made it out, even if so far the odds were balanced and no word of her had been heard since the fires.

Bruh I'm trash Im sorry for taking so long with this thread.

There was no surprise with Calhoun's reaction, just a small bit of concern for him. He was a man who devoted his heart and soul to their high elk, no doubts there. Although it did worry Cyne that the passing of his parents didn't bother him more than she expected it to. Maybe that was just Cyne being too sensitive as usual. Cal and her were from different up-bringings after all, it wouldn't be fair to compare the reactions of them both.....

After the paste was ready, she coated her muzzle in the green blend and nosed Calhoun's singed side with it. "I do hope you come across your sister soon then, and perhaps many more to come. There is no doubt the high elk has led more to these lands..." Cynefrid just had trouble finding them. Though she did not say it, only showed so with a melancholic smile.

The man's face scrunched at the paste touched the sore and irritated skin, though he would do his best to remain still. Whatever pain he felt now was surely better than what he would feel should his wounds become infected. I have no worries, I am sure enough of Kingslend survived to rebuild. You are not the first I've encountered in these lands. Our God is guiding us this way for a reason.

The hunter paid no comment to his sister, she would surely survive on her own. They would reunite once they all regathered in a central location. Have you run into any others? In all honesty, he was wandering blindly as he allowed an unseen hand to guide him, but any clues on his plane of existence would prove far more beneficial than a gut reaction.

"I'm afraid I cannot account for many. Besides you and Friede, attempting to track the others has proven rather difficult--" her eyebrows were unconsciously furrowed while she spoke, not out of any specific emotion, but from her focus on the paste against the wound. "Though I'm still thankful the two of you made it out safely."

After a while, Cyne moved her back a bit to observe her work, then reached down to rub a second protective layer on the wound before continuing their conversation. "What about you, Calhoun? Were there any others you ran into on the way here?"

The hunter hummed as his thoughts drifted to his own empty travels. He had steered clear of any signs of other packs for they were not the same as them, nor would they ever understand. It was true that he had not run into many aside from the healer as well, but that did not put a damper on his thoughts. They would all reunite should they have faith. I'm afraid my findings are not much better. My uncle, Brewster, and I met on diverging paths. He travels this way, though he is slowed by his paw. He has survived the worst of it though so I have no doubts the High Elk is not done with him yet. I went ahead in search of someone who could help and found you. A testament to our God's strength, no? We will not be the only ones to survive.

If you want, we can fade this soonish since its a little dated?

It seemed that Calhoun's uncle, Brewster, had been found as well -- which delighted the fawnish nurse. With more of old Kingslend rounding up they can soon travel in a group to seek safety; though in order to do that, Cyne would need to keep close tabs on everyone so they weren't lost again. She made a note to herself to seek out Freidae later to help them search for Brew...

"The high elk has no doubt kept us safe and alive for a reason, so we must help those we find along the way, therefore..." the woman stepped away from cal once more and began licking away the paste off her nose, deeming the wound fully dressed enough to be protected. "The two of us should steer close to each other during our travels, don't you think? I will need to search again for Freidae, and perhaps we could see if we come across Brewster..."

can probably wrap up here!

Calhoun shook his head. Of course, sticking with family was the whole point of this trip, but he had no time to backtrack. He had to move on, find the others, and his uncle needed tending to. No, head east. Brewster is following at a slower pace. Help his paw, he will need the travel buddy more than I. The high elk would watch over them as they went, there was no doubt in his mind that all three would reunite when the time came. I'll keep my eyes out for Freidae. Thank you for your healing, but this is where we must part.

Her offer to travel close was rejected, which slightly worried her -- the nurse couldn't afford to get separated from her pack members again. Still, Cynefrid trusted the healthy young Baron to do well on his own and decided to let it go. He was right afterall: her main priority should be searching for his uncle and checking up on him -- it was her plan for all Kingslend members she'd come across.

"I...guess I would be fine with that, thank you dear." The woman finally said with a smile, worry still lingering in her eyes before clearing her throat to speak again. "Though, If we are to separate, please take good care of your wound. I do not want you messing with that paste during your travels, okay?" She instructed with a stern yet gentle voice.

There would be no more pleasantries on her end, and Cyne would give the boy a nod and soft smile before turning to scout out Brewster's location...