Redsand Canyon better than to let it fester

@Diesel perhaps?

Ruenna limped onward toward the dim light ahead, slowly making her way back to main camp through the canyon's eastern cave system. Much to her surprise, she had managed to find a path through the caves that led to the base of Arrow Falls. Although she was retired from scouting, she ought to have remembered that Arrow Lake was very near the canyon, but admittedly she had not connected these two features of the Sunspires until chance had connected them for her today. 

It had been an odd feeling, to suddenly and quite accidentally appear at location which was so vivid in her memory. Since her arrival back in the Teekon Wilds a year ago, she had attempted to learn the fate of Stigmata, Mahler, and the rest of Diaspora, but any word of them had so far alluded her. Perhaps on a day she had more energy and less back pain, she would investigate Diaspora's old dwellings at Arrow Lake for answers or clues. 

Ruenna blinked heavily as she stepped out of the cave, momentarily blinded by the sun's brightness. She clenched her teeth around the herbs in her mouth and turned away from the sun, hiding her face from the harsh light until her eyes were able to adjust.

She was in a foul, rotten mood. Thoughts of abandoning Mereo pecked her brain. It would be so damn easy to pick a direction and walk away, wake up the next day a free woman, no-one's subordinate. And yet, what would be the benefit? Brachycephaly and short legs made her a poor hunter, smooth coat couldn't protect from the winter. Awful weather was the obstacle between herself and freedom.

Maybe in spring, it'd be easier to leave.

The mastiff laid and snoozed, her mental faculties overworked by planning. In sleep, Diesel remained ignorant to the wolf who exited the cave mouth not forty feet away from she.

Even after her eyes adjusted, Ruenna might have missed the ruddy-hued woman camouflaged against the canyon's backdrop of reds and browns. It was her conspicuous scent which drew attention of the newly-minted Caeso-Redfern. 

Ruenna placed her herbs in the sand so she could speak. 

"Excuse me, auxilia?" she called out, "Are you Diesel?" Certainly this must be the canine in need of medical care, given the sickly-sweet odor of infection hanging about her. 

At least Ruenna hadn't needed to search long to find her. That was a small blessing; her lower back was already aching deeply after a night of tossing and turning followed by a morning of exploration.

Her eyelids lifted to let a pair of hazel eyes glare at the intruder. A wolf. What else would it be? But, the time spent among their kind made the details of their appearance more discernible.

This one was a chick, although by the scent of age the word hen seemed more fitting. A wispy creature, pale and grey, not likely related by blood to anyone else she'd met in Mereo, at least not immediately.

Was she even a part of the pack? Diesel's head lifted. She didn't really pay attention to coming and goings of others, still not grasping the way a pack functioned and what part she had to play in one. The dog sized up the she-wolf again, this time to determine if she was a threat to her.

Old as balls and thin as hell. Nope, definitely not.

Her head went back to the ground, wrinkles pooling about her muzzle and eyes closing. "Who wants to know?" Came the gruff reply.

"I'm called Lady Ruenna," Rue answered, remembering to introduce herself by the title Germanicus wished for the auxilia to use. "I am Germanicus's wife, and to you, I am Matrona." She smiled wanly, although Diesel wouldn't see it as her eyes had dropped closed once more.

"I keep the barracks for you and care for your needs," Ruenna explained, anticipating an inquiry about the role of a Matrona. 

She tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Ruenna knew that there were all manner of canines all over the continent, but it was one thing to know in theory and quite another to be presented with such stark evidence.

so so sorry for the wait D:

One eyelid lifted, as did its accompanying brow. "Wife? Ain't that human shit?" Monogamy and commitment in general were concepts alien to the dog, although her pickled brain had begun to grasp their outlines.

It seemed the capacity to fall asleep had abandoned her. Ah, well. The mastiff got up, yawned and stretched in a way that made her spine produce a series of satisfying cracks and pops. Smacking her lips - built up drool drizzling from her jowls - she seated herself, blinking in that slow manner of a recently unconscious individual.

"-m Diesel." She confirmed, still blinking blearily at the other woman. What the hell was a Matrona? The explanation came, but it would take a bit for the mastiff to process it. "N I must've slept a month, if Boss got married in the meanwhile and we got a Lady-Boss."

Another yawn gaped her maws.

"...What kindsa needs?" 

"Is it?" Ruenna mused, intrigued that the concept of marriage would be attributed solely to humans, when so many species mated for long term or life. "Mate, then," she amended, on the off-chance that the auxilia found the concept of mateship less offensive than marriage. 

Humankind was not often spoken of in these Wilds. Given this woman's extremely unusual appearance and her casual mention of humans, Ruenna wondered if she might be a dog. If she was, she would be the first Ruenna had encountered in person. How extraordinary.

The soldier propped herself upright in a manner utterly devoid of grace or dignity, but Ruenna quickly dismissed any assumptions that might have arisen. If she was indeed a dog, raised among humans, she would have a very different cultural and social upbringing. Perhaps the qualities that wolfkind found objectionable were actually celebrated by humankind.  

There was also the fact that grace, dignity, poise and attractiveness were not necessary characteristics of a soldier. Germanicus had obviously looked past the crude language and strings of drool, and he had seen potential somewhere beneath those flowing, fleshy wrinkles. Ruenna would trust his judgement. 

"It did happen quickly," Ruenna smiled in good humor, acknowledging the hastiness of the marriage agreement. "And I am not your boss. You still report solely to Germanicus." 

What kind of needs? 

"Well, your medical needs, for one," Ruenna answered. She gestured to the herbs she had laid down. "I can can mix a medicine to apply to your wounds. It will soothe the infection and aid in healing." Was Diesel familiar with herbal medicine? Ruenna had heard that humans used stings to deliver mind and body-altering substances to animals, similar to to way bees deliver shots of poison. It seemed to Ruenna a brutal, unnatural way to treat creatures in their charge.

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right." Mumbled the mastiff, finding the the term "mates" to be something much more befitting their kind. It didn't imply the wholly incomprehensible rituals and ceremonies associated with human marriage, just two dudes who liked to fuck each other on the regular. 

At least that was about as much as the dog, whose own father jumped a fence to access her mother in heat and then left without a trace, could understand of the sacred bonds of mateship.

Diesel nodded, when this Roo-something-she-already-forgot explained that she was not equal in rank to their Boss, but her eyes squinted slightly. "Y'know, I always thought it was a, uhh, cop-you-late-ing pair that led a wolf pack." She licked her floppy upper lip, sucking it into her mouth and then lightly chewing on it. "You gonna, uh, hav' babies? When your time comes?" If her time could come. The hen seemed a tad weathered for babymaking. Could her legs even hold a man?

Watery hazel eyes went to the herbs by the older female's feet, and again her eyes squinted, now mistrustfully, although she had to admit this was somewhat familiar. "...And that's gonna make me healthy?" The dog raised her brow at the she-wolf. "How you gonna, I mean, how you gonna make the medicine? Just..." Diesel made motions on the ground as if kneading something. "Just gonna do it with your paws?" The term "unsanitary" was nowhere near her vocabulary but the insistence of humans upon cleanliness had some effect on the bitch.

At first, Ruenna thought to explain to the auxilia that Mereo, as a military outpost, was organized in a manner that differed from the hierarchy of a familial pack. However, she got the sense that Diesel would struggle to grasp the finer points of her explanation, so she settled for a different approach.

"We both lead, just in different domains. Germanicus leads the auxilia as the Imperator-- the military commander. I lead the civilians as Matrona."

Copulating. Babies. Diesel's blunt, almost crude manner of speaking of these things triggered a buried reflex within her to withdraw. To flinch away from the pointed questions, laced in judgement and expectation. And so her response was vague. 

"One of my responsibilities is to make Mereo a suitable environment for children. For their learning and growth. These could be my children, or those of the other women in Mereo." Tucked inside her carefully-chosen words was the affirmation that motherhood was an option for Diesel too, if she weighed her options pro et contra and decided motherhood was worth the consequences that would come down from her Imperator. 

How did Ruenna intend to make the medicine?

"I was going to chew it," Ruenna imparted, suppressing a laugh at the visual of kneading the herbs upon the ground. Ruenna was usually fairly adept at reading expressions, but Diesel's unusual facial features caused her to mistakenly identify Diesel's skepticism as curiosity. "Do you have an interest in medicine?" she asked, assuming this was the motivation behind Diesel's inquiry.

Diesel nodded, although the way her wrinkled brows knit showed that understanding the hierarchy of this pack took some focus and mental sweat. She could swear, pavement packs were far more streamlined.

The crudeness of her questions did not occur to the dog. Her mom, the humans and the street cats all instilled in Diesel a blunt and individualistic demeanor, which her months as a stray only further polished to gleam with iridescent tactlessness. Say what's on your mind at all times, that was the way.

"Safe for kiddies, eh?" The mastiff spat out her lip. "And uh, 's that a... 's that a requirement? Baby-makin' I mean. For the girls. 'Cause I gotta admit, I ain't ever gonna be a proper mom. I prefer my teats unchewed, thank you." She laughed. The idea was preposterous. She had yet to have her first heat, but the younger female was sure it would be no big deal to let it pass without anyone sticking their dick in her.

"Uuuh." Did she have any interest? In herb-chewing? Like a pig? Or, a goat? She wasn't sure, she was a Meridian gal, not a hillbilly. "I mean, would be nice to know what to eat not to bleed out." As much as her anatomy would allow for it, she shrugged. "For now, I'd just like my wrinkles not to rot off. This thing -" She almost went cross-eyed trying to look at her missing brow meat. "- stinks worse than a heated garbage bag, and not half as delicious."

Was it a requirement? "Breeding is not required of anyone. As a female soldier, it is preferred that you do not breed. You will not be able to serve as a soldier if you are pregnant." Ruenna almost asked Diesel if she was familiar with the mechanics of how wolves became pregnant, in order to assure that she would take the necessary steps to prevent such an outcome. However, on second thought, Ruenna decided that she would spare herself the crude language that Diesel was sure to employ in her description. Her sensibilities were already offended by the "teat chewing" comment. 

Ruenna did not know of any herb that would prevent bleeding out, if a body was currently in active danger of doing so. The idea that one could swallow something to halt significant bloodloss seemed rather like magical thinking. But a poultice for a rotting wrinkle was manageable. 

Ruenna began chewing the horsetail frond, wondering what "a heated garbage bag" was and how delicious it must taste. Humans had a reputation for fantastic recipes. 

She spat the poultice onto her paw. "It's done. I'll spread it on your wound, and hopefully it will clear up the infection." Ruenna hoped that Diesel would consent to treatment, given how dubious she seemed about medicine in general.

The molossoid gave a serious nod, then a broad smile of acted-up relief. "Phew. And here I thought you'd be needing me to provide the next generation, or some shit like that." It was the exact phrase used by two of the previous dog groups she mingled with, and obviously quickly left when it became apparent the members were looking for a little more than a casual fling.

She watched the old led chew the herbs into a paste, muzzle only slightly more wrinkled than usual. Jesus, that must taste awful. Dogs and wolves were no goats to savor the flavor of pungent grasses.

Once the medicine was prepared, Diesel bent her head back. "My brow's bad, but do the neck first, that one I think the chain might've irritated."

cannot apologize enough for my slowness, we can wrap it up here 

If her mouth hadn't been occupied, Ruenna would have reassured Diesel again, and on no uncertain terms, that it was much preferred that she abstain from reproduction. That particular responsibility-- to provide the next generation-- would fall primarily to the civilians. 

Ruenna would apply the poultice as directed, doctoring first the wound beneath the "chain," and then the one upon the brow. The chain-- as Diesel called it-- had a very odd feel and taste to it. It was smooth and cold, and the taste reminded her vaguely of blood. 

Once the task was complete, Ruenna would quickly dismiss herself, allowing Diesel to finish her nap. Ruenna would seek out her own chamber for repose, exhausted from the morning's travels.