Duskfire Glacier Failures are inevitable [M]

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic depictions of a wound

Time - around 6 am | Weather - overcast | Notes; Anyone needing a medic trade thread, you're welcome to hop in! I rolled for the outcome of his injury and hunt. Moderate injury, not severe. I changed to a Fox instead of a Opossum because those things are dumb and play dead. Apologies for the lenght.

The sun peaked out from under the horizon and a wolf was there to welcome it, Rye sat beside a tree and watched as the sun rose into the sky in an astonishing array of colors. Once the sun was halfway above the horizon, Rye set out to the neighboring forest to scare some hare out of their burrow or maybe catch a marten or two lurking in bushes and shrubs. As he jogged to the woods Lane surfaced in his mind and encompassed his thoughts. Their tender embrace had yet to leave his mind, instead stubbornly hanging around like a fruit fly living off week old dry fruit. Where was she now? He wondered, more worried about her than he ought to be. Then there was Tzila. He was curious to know where she was as well, they hadn't talked since their fling and Rye was starting to think she was upset with him. A problem for another time he told himself. With two females pregnant, came with it far more lives to care for and feed and less bodies to hunt. Rye was glad there was an abundance of medics around, including an aspiring medic/midwife such as himself. Although that didn't leave many capable of hunting and left one or two busy tending to expecting mothers. Rye guessed he, Imaq, and maybe Wintersbane would have to pick up the slack. The Hotah male knew the sooner he got to stockpiling all the furs, left over meats and herbs he could find the better it would be for everyone.
Too deep in thought Rye didn't notice he had already crossed into the forest, what woke him from his trance was the scent of a fox. It stopped him in his tracks, his body instinctively lowering as he searched the forest. A small orange fox walked its way into the mans view, the fox's nose twitching as it scavenged for scraps of anything edible. Rye didn't waste any time, his front paws moved tenderly with every footfall and his hind feet stepped in the same spot as the front. To say his stealth was lacking in finesse wouldn't do it justice, so of course he stepped on the only crunchy leaf in the entire damn forest and of course the fox scurried away as fast as its legs could carry it. Rye was quick to give chase, dodging and weaving through the trees, jumping over their roots and, maneuvering around bushes. He was close but the rush of endorphins was waning, he started to feel the burning in his lungs and the ache in his legs. He kept going, inching closer by the second but then in a flash it was gone. The foxes body far more agile than his due to its small size, it darted in another direction entirely but not without cause (other than fleeing). A steep dip in the forest floor was feet away and through the decades of erosion, the walls of the dip were peppered with rocks. Sharp, Obsidian rock.
"Oh shit!" Rye screamed as he tried desperately to keep from sliding down the short dip but his weight combined with his speed coupled together into a deadly slide and by the end something stung. The pain burned white hot as Rye laid at the bottom. Terror gripped him like a vise, he didn't know how bad it was, he didn't want to know how bad it was but he could feel the blood pooling below him. Sickeningly warm, it prompted Rye to move out of the dip but as he tried a searing pain ripped down his right side. He laid against the side of the small pit and looked at his flank as best he could. Fur, blood, and skin caked the long cut and the blood thickly coated his fur directly below the wound. Panic engulfed him as he saw it stretch from his shoulder and curve up to his back, it was long, jagged, and unsightly. Rye tried to get out again but the pain was near unbearable, for the moment all he could do was lay there and bleed.

If one were to ask if Tzila was upset with Rye over their impassioned night, she would have asked in turn, 'Are you crazy? Of course not.' While un-expected, she could truthfully say that she had enjoyed the time they spent together nearly two weeks ago. In fact, the ruddy draped woman rather liked the earthen male. He was good company. Honest and sincere. Passionate and driving. That phrase he had uttered to her, words of faith passed on from another, still rung clear in her head. With a slight smile, she huffed pleasantly. His optimistic outlook was almost infectious. 

She had been meaning to catch up with him. To get a few minutes alone, to discuss some things. She found that she had gotten a little too caught up in staying busy, in monitoring the on goings within the pack. Her brows pinched. She really should set aside some time for more personal, one on one visits with everyone. Her train of thought was broken by the clattering of rocks and a shout. Her ears pricked up in alarm. That was Rye's voice. Coming from the forest, where the terrain was composed of treacherous stone, sloping downward. A disaster waiting to happen for those that weren't sure of foot.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she whirled, hurtling through the forest. Under her breath she released panicked swears. Rye was down there, hurt! The father of some of the children growing inside her. She couldn't risk losing him now. Duskfire Glacier couldn't afford losing him. The blood in the air further tightened the knot in her stomach. He was injured. Arriving short of the downgrade of the earth from which he had tumbled, Tzila's dark head peeked over the edge, silver eyes wide with alarm. "Rye! Shit. Damnit, hold on!" He was on his side, conscious but not able to stand. 

Before she would risk herself and inspect the damage, she took control. @Lane and @Iana, the packs medics, came to her thoughts instantly. @Wintersbane as well. The two females were slight of build and they would need a sturdier figure to assist in supporting Rye's weight. She threw back her head and released a bellowing howl of urgency. While no skilled medic, Tzila did know some basics. She was a hardened, self-taught survivalist, after all. Hastily, she grabbed a nearby clump of moss - an easily accessible tool used to hold off bleeding - and clambered down the rocks as quickly as she could, without cutting a paw open. Silently, she thanked herself that she was still so early into her pregnancy, keeping her figure on the trimmer side. Kneeling beside him, she deposited the moss, but did not apply it. His injury could just be a flesh wound. Or muscle could be involved, or worse, organs damaged. He may even have some broken ribs. This, was beyond her area of expertise. "Hold tight. Focus. Breathe, Rye. Help is coming." She urged, pressing in to nudge his cheek, consoling.

Edited with a correction. Message me if any more edits are needed! :) 

Although Lane hadn't heard Rye's initial shout, she alerted immediately to Tzila's urgent summons. It took her a moment to recover from standing up so quickly, and she stumbled, trying to locate her emergency medkit while the earth spun around her. The medkit was already packed with any supplies she might require for wound care, but Lane had not forgotten that Tzila was expecting. What if the emergency had something to do with the pregnancy? There wasn't much that could be done for those sorts of problems, but Lane grabbed a few raspberry leaves just in case. If it was only some minor bleeding, the leaves would staunch the flow and likely ease the expecting mother's nerves. 

Her wave of dizziness passed, and she made her way quickly to the source of the call. She was still feeling lightheaded, probably because she hadn't eaten in.. a day? Two days? It was whenever Wintersbane had left that rabbit outside her makeshift den, she knew that much.

Lane halted as she approached the precipice. At first she was confused. This was the source of the call, and also where Tzila's scent was concentrated, but there was no one to be found. Then she heard a hushed, urgent voice, which drew her to over to the edge. Lane's gaze fell on Rye's limp body, attended by a very worried Tzila, and it was immediately apparent what had happened. 

A strangled, involuntary noise escaped from Lane, but it was partially muffled by the medkit in her jaws. Seeing him lying motionless and bleeding triggered a rupture of emotion. Rye, stong, steady, kindhearted Rye. A judgeless confidante. Her rock in a literal storm. He had responded to Lane's situation with empathy, embracing her with steady compassion and unequivocal acceptance. Unbidden tears welled at the corners of Lane's eyes. 

Lane's gaze darted across the rocky decline, searching for a path down, and another dizzy spell hit her. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through her dizziness. When she opened her eyes, it was only to locate the first step-- the one immediately before her. Keeping her eyes trained on her own feet, and she was able to pick her way down to bottom. She rushed to Tzila's side. She saw some moss deposited nearby-- was that incredibly lucky, or had Tzila collected it?-- and after a cursory glance over Rye's wound, she dropped her medkit to speak. 

"I'm here, Rye--" speaking his name triggered another wave of emotion. Swallowing down her anxiety, Lane continued, "You're going to be okay." Turning to Tzila, she spoke again in a low voice, "We'll need to staunch the bleeding-- could you apply that with pressure?" She gestured toward the moss. She would show Tzila how to apply the correct pressure if need be. If Tzila could help her by keeping pressure on the wound, then Lane would be able to step away to chew up a quick poultice.

Though she hadn't been specifically called for, to hear an emergency cry for help ring out over the Glacier sent the medicine woman deeper into the Caverns (where she'd been tending some herbs that grew within) to the apothecary den where she and Iana -- and now, possibly Rye and Lane -- had taken to storing a communal stock of medicines. Much as Lane had faltered, wondering what to grab and take with her, the golden she-dog swayed on her feathered paws as she examined the pharmacopeia they'd arranged since claiming the territory. An anxious whine escaped her before the shaman simply snatched up a rabbit hide with a few basic healer's herbs in them, whirling as she rushed to answer Tzila's howl with the bundle clasped in her jaws.

She wasn't sure what to expect upon arriving but the sight of a bloody Rye collapsed in the bottom of the shallow pit with the fretful she-wolves descending to work on the hawk-eyed male's injuries made the cur's heart leap into her throat -- nearly making her drop the pelt-wrapped herbs in her shock. Something stung at her throat and the backs of her aquamarine optics -- fear or concern for the kind he-wolf who had become her friend -- but she blinked it away in an effort to remain calm.

Figuring she would only overcrowd the others in the hole, Imaq remained where she was on the lip of the opening -- placing the medicines at her paws before shifting on them in nervous agitation. "What Lane need? How Imaq can help Rye?" She asked of the other Caregiver -- albeit softly, not wanting to draw the pale agouti's attention away from her patient. 

My post got deleted in its entirety, all 1000 or so words from just pressing backspace. As a result this is a little rushed and garbage. Lmk if I need to change something.

Important edit; I accidentally gave an exact number of pups, which Rye wouldn't know, that was just my brain being a dumby dumb!! But I fixed it, so crisis averted

Rye laid against the the wall of rock and dirt, his breathing steady but shaky as he tried to settle his fears and regain composure. The task at hand was strenuous, as his lungs fill with air they stretched the surrounding flesh and sent wave after wave of pain shooting through his side. Capturing his composure was no easy task either, the worst of his fears hammered his brain and quickened his breathing. It led to a vicious cycle of pain and more fear. Rye needed to look again, settle the chaos with firm answers. Despite the blaring alarms in his head that said not to look, the male looked again. His head moving to give his right eye the best view it could manage without disrupting the wound more. Alas, his movements aggravated the long cut and sent sparks of pain ripping through his flank but the view earned was enough to see the damage in greater detail. The cut in his shoulder appeared deeper than the remaining laceration and if Rye did have a better view he would be able to see the cut did not penetrate through to muscle. It wasn't as bad as it felt but his shoulder still bled and he still needed to climb out of the pit without causing himself further injury; but the pain, it was excruciating. Rye rested his head back onto the wall, tawny eyes sealed behind clenched lids. Whispered curses flowed from his lips, he felt foolish for letting a fox get the better of him. What would the others think of him? Rye couldn't let anyone see him but he had to get out quick, no matter the pain it caused him. He was ready, but then he heard something. Footsteps, and fast in pace. Was the fox coming back to rub Ryes failures in his own face?
No, it was worse. His pregnant packmate, Tzila popped her head over the edge with wide eyes and full of panic. Rye shared the look on her face and as she lifted her head to call for others it changed from panicked, to horrified. The color drained from his face and all he could do was stare into the distance, thinking about how much of an idiot he was. Then Tzila deposited the moss and Rye quickly recoiled away from her, other sharp rocks stabbing into his back but not puncturing it, and again he recoiled back to her. Meeting her soft nudge half way. If the pain from the moss deposit had not already consumed him, Rye would be quite grateful to be consoled and would offer his own nudge in return. Then suddenly another head popped over the edge, it was Lane who was quickly followed up by Imaq, they both hopped into the sharp pit. Three females, two pregnant, all trying to tend to his wounds even though Rye knew he didn't deserve it in the slightest.
"No, don't touch me Tzila. You neither Lane. Imaq that includes you too." Rye scooted back as far and as best he could with one good remaining shoulder, "You both," His eyes darted between Lane and Tzila while speaking, leaving poor Imaq to be excluded from his outburst. "Should NOT be down here and you both know damn well why you shouldn't! I will not let either of you touch me until you get out of this stupid pit!" Although Rye was angry, he wasn't mad at them for trying to help but rather the fact they would risk themselves and pups for him. He didn't see all the lives in the pit as something worth risking to help one life, didn't matter they were only a few weeks into pregnancy, Rye wasn't going to let it slide. 

Posting here again. @Iana & Wintersbane, feel free to hop in when you like! <3

To her great relief, the tawny wolf Lane arrived seconds after her call. Followed shortly by Imaq, who though not summoned, was greatly appreciated for her timely appearance. With Lane by her side in no time, Tzila swiveled an ear, nodding. Yes, she at the very least could apply pressure to the wound to keep the bleeding at bay.

But Rye, as his body language and short words suggested, had other ideas. He chided them, all three of them, for acting without thinking in coming to his aid. The dark woman stood silent, making no further move to reach for him. Her chiseled face was unreadable while she absorbed his words and his anger. He was justified in feeling as he did. In front of him in this pit were two females carrying delicate new life. The future of Duskfire Glacier. But she had her own reasons and her own point to prove. As she suspected as did Lane, whom she shared a quick, knowing glance with.

Squaring her shoulders and straightening her posture, Tzila gathered herself, letting her tail rise above her hips in a pointed display of dominance. Her expression hardened slightly, but did not quite border on harsh. Nor did her lips crinkle or her ears flatten. She stood her ground. "I understand why you are upset." She began cooly. "But consider it fortunate that Lane and I are still early in our terms. Not bloated and not nearly as mobile. We are not quite that delicate yet." She stared down at him. "What would have happened if no one had heard you? If I hadn't been nearby? You could have been stranded here for days. I will not sit idly by, pregnant or not and let one of my pack mates suffer." She stated firmly.

An urgent, inquiring voice drifted to Lane's ears from the precipice above. Imaq. 

"A poultice for bleeding," Lane called to her, "Horsetail and marigold, if you have those with you. If you don't, I ha--" 

Lane didn't get a chance to finish her thought; her attention snapped back to Rye as he began scolding them. Lane flattened her ears, feeling a bit guilty. He wasn't entirely wrong. With her unpredictable waves of dizziness, Lane probably shouldn't have climbed down the edge of the pit. She normally wouldn't have attempted it, but something about seeing Rye down here bleeding had driven her to attempt the risky climb. 

Even so, the damage was done. Apart from Imaq, they were all now in the pit, and refusing treatment at this point was doing little-to-nothing to protect the pregnant Duskfire women. On some rational level, Rye must know that. 

Tzila glanced at her knowingly, and Lane mouthed the word "concussion" to her. Noncompliance and agitation were red flags for concussion, and Rye's reasoning seemed to be somewhat lacking to boot. Tzila appealed to Rye with fair, logical points, but Lane wasn't convinced that Rye would be able to hear her logic, particularly if he was concussed. 

"Just tell us what to do, Rye. If you want us all to climb out together, we're right behind you." Lane attempted to share another meaningful look with Tzila, equal parts gratitude and concern. She appreciated the guardian coming to her defense-- she was certainly right, Lane was not that delicate yet!-- but the fact remained that Rye needed medical attention, and he needed it fast. Arguing with him was just going to delay his treatment even longer, and every second they wasted meant more lost blood.

For a moment, Imaq's face is alight with attentiveness -- lips lightly parted as she nods with Lane's words, reaching for the rabbit hide to paw it open and search through its contents. Only to pause, pale paw stilled midair as the angry outburst flew from Rye's lips. Despite the fact that she was Gamma of the Glacier, the she-dog flinched back at the earthen guardian's refusal -- lowering her underbelly to the ground where she crouched at the edge of the pit and placing her head on her paws with a hushed noise of agitation as the three broke into argument.

Her head lifted only when Tzila spoke up, nodding along in agreement. It was true that the two expecting she-wolves could have been more careful but that seemed beside the point now. They were already in the shallow ravine and Imaq was neither pregnant, nor had she ventured down into the crowded hollow -- which meant he had no reason to refuse Imaq's care specifically. 

Figuring that Lane would still need medicine for the he-wolf's injuries, the gilded merle turned her attention back to the bundle she'd brought with her. Avoiding Rye's irritation, or trying to anyways, she began to search through the recently dried herbs for something that might work -- given that she seemed to be lacking in marigold and horsetail, something she cursed silently. 

She set aside a bunch of colorful yellow goldenrod and a similar pawful of fluffy tansy flowers, nudging the two herbs into neat piles beside a wad of sticky cobweb bandages as she waited for Rye to accept Tzila and Lane's assistance in climbing out of the ditch -- mouthing a silent prayer to the spirits that he would just let them help.

It did not matter, they were pregnant and in the pit of sharp rocks, there would be no arguing with him. His tawny eyes flickered between the trio, but mainly the pregnant pair while his brain worked a way out of his situation. None of it would be painless, nor dignified but it would have to do. His plan was to, no holds barred, climb out using all his strength, then mosey on out of there. Rye knew he could do it but not if he should do it, no, none of that mattered when his pride was on the line. While Lane and Tzila talked to him, Rye was silently planning his escape route from the pit (and them), only catching the ends of their respective words. "I am a being!" He snapped. 'What?' , he thought, visibly confused by his own words. "I mean, I am fine. I don't need help and I don't need any of you." With that said, Rye scrambled his way up and over the lip of the little ravine. A series of grunts and growls poured from his throat, guttural and as course as sand, it was clear the pain was overtaking all his senses. Once his feet found him, his head began to feel flooded and heavy, almost as if he could feel the liquid in his brain slosh around. He remained still, his head physically wobbling to counter each wave of dizziness and blurry vison that struck him all at once. The pictures refused to line up and his frequent blinking didn't help either, Rye was starting to believe trees and grass always looked doubled up. He stopped trying to correct his vison and started walking instead. Whoever, if anyone, was talking would be ignored. The ringing in his ears would drown them out anyhow. His walking looked like that of a new borns first steps, sloppy, uncoordinated and hasty. Each foot did not land where they naturally should have landed, instead they overlapped or went awkwardly off to the side. Internally Rye was dumbfounded, not a clue why walking hurt and why it was difficult. Something was wrong, he felt scared, lost and shaky. There was a nonverbal voice telling him to seek help, it was relentless and difficult to ignore but Rye tried anyway. He began to walk faster, away from them. 'Who?'. Far away, anywhere but near them. 'Why running?', he asked himself. Rye was going to look behind him but a volatile wave of nausea had him losing his lunch, nothing but foam came up however. Just like that he fell down onto his belly, the context of everything that had transpired faded in and out of his brain. All he could do was lay there in shame and utter embarrassment, with few clues as to why.          

She had felt that with both Lane and Imaq here to help, that they would be able to treat Rye and get him out of the pit. Turns out that wasn't the case at all. She nodded once at Lanes mouthing of the concussion he had suffered. She had seen symptoms of them before, especially back in her days with the Nightwalkers, where fighting was common.

Rye was proving to be a classic concussion patient. Unable to listen to reason, stubborn and delusional. He insisted on putting up a fight. Knowing that there was little they could do to help him in this state of mind, she sighed frustration, shaking her head. She moved aside, seeing if at the very least, if it was possible at all to clear a safe path for him to climb up on.

He beat her to it, clambering up the slope and out of the pit on his own. She worried he would exacerbate his wounds in the process. Hurriedly she followed up after him, watching him like a hawk. He wobbled and stumbled drunkenly. Without realizing it, she broke out into a brisk trot, to hurry up to his side to try and support him. But she had reached him too late, as he collapsed. If Lane and Imaq weren't already right by her side, she ushered them close with concerned whines. "We need to get him out of the open. He...he'll bounce back from this, right?"

Rye bolted away from them, scrambling up over the edge of the ravine. Lane grabbed her medkit and quickly followed. By the time Lane clambered over up over the edge, Rye had already collapsed. She followed Tzila to his side. 

There was blood everywhere. Rye was lying there in it, still and under-responsive. Tzila looked to her with a question, and Lane gave her a meaningful look with a nod toward's Rye's face. He seemed to still be conscious-- at least for the moment-- so they probably shouldn't talk over him. That seemed to be what had set him off earlier; his shout of "I am a being!" still rang loud and clear in Lane's ears. 

"You're going to be fine Rye," Lane told him, by way of answering Tzila's question. "We're all fine," she added, only because Rye had seemed concerned about the others present.

A cursory examination revealed the shoulder wound to be the worst of his injuries, at least as far as Lane could tell. Dark, red blood pulsed thickly from the wound and oozed down his neck and chest. Lane pulled a cobweb bandage out of her medkit and pressed it gently against the wound on his shoulder, hoping to staunch the wound long enough for Imaq to finish the poultice. 

Principle dictated that Lane wasn't to touch a patient who was refusing help; not until they passed out at least. She wasn't sure if Rye was still conscious or not, but she was going to make an exception here. Because it was Rye. 

Lane looked over her shoulder for Imaq. "I've got some ingredients in my kit, if you need them for the poultice." If Imaq needed help, Lane would go to her and allow Tzila to take over for her putting pressure on the wound.

What Tzila had said about getting Rye out of the open hadn't escaped Lane, but there was little they could do about that right now. This was where he had collapsed, so this was where they would have to treat him.

Though she was a medicine woman, Imaq had never before seen a wolf that was suffering from a concussion. Healing was not her main profession anyhow, not anymore. Maybe once, when she was training to be Angakkoq but the halcyon merle had given up her training as a spiritual leader when she relocated to Teekon and had taken up hunting as a primary trade. The she-dog had no idea what was wrong with her friend and packmate, watching him in concern as his irritation seemed to reach a boiling point. At his outburst, her brows crumpled in confusion -- wondering if the reason she didn't understand was because of a language barrier, seeing perplexion on Tzila's face as well. 

She stifled the urge to recoil again when the next angry words burst from Rye's lips and he slowly stomped past them, gaining speed as he scrambled out of the pit and staggered by. The she-dog was utterly bewildered by his behavior but rushed to his side with the other two women as Rye crashed to the ground. 

Imaq stared down at the blood pooling beneath the he-wolf's prone form in thinly-veiled horror, whirling back towards the piles of herbs she'd forgotten before Lane's voice stopped her. She diverted, darting instead towards the other medic's healing supplies obediently and rifling through the contents. Some conscientious aspect of the tedious cur hated to disturb the woman's things but her urgency meant her muzzle and paws trembled slightly, her movements bordering on agitated as she searched for the requested plants.

Upon finding the horsetail and marigold, Selkie rushed them back over to Lane -- bringing along the wad of cobwebs for good measure. "Imaq has rabbitskin. Lane can use for blood," the woman murmured softly, gesturing first towards the hide her own supplies were wrapped in before making a motion that meant Lane might use it to press on the wound and staunch the flow of blood if she thought it might help. The cobwebs were awful thin and Rye was bleeding profusely, maybe it would be beneficial to stop the bleeding before applying a poultice -- else it would only be soaked in the ruby rivulets, besides the fact that Rye losing more blood was dangerous.

The assuring words that came from Lane steadied her frazzled nerves as she looked down at Rye, collapsed and bleeding from his wound. She may have been a self taught survivalist, where looking out for herself was easy enough. But with little in the way of medical skills, she was left feeling uncertain in real emergency situations like these. This was where the presence and the experience of wolves like Lane and Imaq were truly appreciated.

Trying to choke back a wave of emotion at feeling so grateful to have such wolves in her pack, that could one day look out for new lives that were yet to come, she steeled herself and focused on what was required of her. Despite the cobweb that Lane had applied and the skin of rabbit that Imaq brought, Rye was still bleeding more than she liked. With a soft grunt, Tzila took measures into her own paws. She stepped in close and without hesitating, placed her own chin gently but firmly over the bleeding wound. Heedless of the foreign blood that would stain her fur darker than it already was. It was a crude method, but it was the best she could come up with, for now.

Skipping Rye this round with permission. Small pp of Tzila, pm me if I need to edit.

Rye lay quietly, without protest. Either he had given up fighting the caregivers, or he had passed out. 

Imaq offered a rabbit skin, which Lane accepted with a relieved, "Thanks." She spread the rabbit skin over the wound, urging Tzila to pull her chin away and instead press down with her paws upon the rabbit skin. Together, they would hold pressure on the wound for what felt like forever, each passing moment an eternity. 

In time, Lane would peel up a corner of the skin to check the wound. "Good job, Rye. Bleeding has slowed." It was unknown to Lane whether Rye was able to hear her, but no doubt the words would be reassuring for all present.

"We're ready for the poultice," Lane noted, glancing over her shoulder for Imaq. It was time for the herbalist to do her thing.

Imaq passed the skin to Lane, stepping back and taking the herbs between her paws as she quickly stretched prone upon the ground. Piling the plants up into one small mound, she shredded through them as quickly as she could -- not worried about any saliva that might whet the herbs and cause them to stick together. It would only help mix the poultice together and aid the healing process, anyhow. 

When Lane turned back, the bleeding slowed for now even if it wasn't completely stopped, the isabella merle hurried to gather up as much of the mix in her freckled jaws as possible and carried it over to the Hotah's inert form. Without needing to be told, the healer dropped the mass of chewed marigold and horsetail directly onto the messy wound before stepping back so Lane could wrap it in cobwebs. Her cracked gaze flicked to Lane's features, ready to jump in and assist if she caught even a hint of the agouti needing help. 

As instructed by Lane, Tzila swiftly removed her chin from Rye's wounds. Blood that was not her own poured from her dark fur, staining the ground at her paws. She ignored it. Once the rabbit skin was moved into place over the wound, she firmly pressed down with her paws.

Beneath it she felt the warmth of the liquid gather. She waited, listening to the sounds of Imaq working close by. She kept a watchful eye on Rye's mostly still frame, keeping tabs on his breathing in particular. Other than what she had done so far, she felt particularly useless in this situation.

After a bit of a rough start, the team finally came together, working side by side to combine their various talents. No doubt Wintersbane and Iana would be proud of their subordinates, had they been able to see it. 

After Iana placed the poultice, Lane bound the wound deftly. Once or twice she borrowed a paw from Imaq or Tzila to hold the bandage taught while she wound the bindings. 

Their work finished, all that was left was for Rye to rest. His healing was in his own paws now, and perhaps those of whatever higher power watched over the Glacier. Rye would have to stay where he was, for now. If he felt up to it when he woke, they would help him get to a more comfortable place to recover.