Sawtooth Spire maunon

heda was exhausted. between climbing the mountain three times, once there, once down, and once back, in addition to caracal's traumatic injury and discovering mahler was an asshole but being forced to rely on him, the girl was exhausted. all she wanted to do was lie down for a while.
she'd washed the tears from her face in the cold river downstream and now she looked for @Caracal. "good news, i found a healer and he's on the way," she said with a cheeriness that to her credit was only a little forced. "he said to clean the wound, is that okay?"

It wasn’t possible to sleep, especially after his cursory search for herbal treatment turned up naught. Caracal slumped down beside the mess of bones and feathers and just tried to take it easy as he wondered how long it might take Heda to fetch help.

It didn’t take nearly as long as he expected. The sound of her voice startled him from a stuporous drowse. His one good eye blinked blearily at her and he said nothing for a solid minute as his pain-addled brain took a moment to reboot.

I already did, in the river, he told her groggily. And though he was a little afraid to ask, he added, How’s it looking?

ill throw mahler in here after ur next post <3

"good, i'm not trying to taste any more of your blood," heda joked, but it fell flat because she couldn't muster a smile, not even a fake one. she wanted to lie down next to him but knew mahler would be along any moment. and heda was also stressed because she didn't know how she was going to act when he did arrive.
and so her anxiety spun on and on, until she sat close to caracal and peered into his face. "it looks ... better. for real. uh, still red. but not ... not as red as before?" her voice squeaked at the end. she coughed and looked toward the rushing river.

She said it looked better. Caracal turned his head a little to squint at her with his good eye, hoping she was telling the truth. It didn’t really feel any better and he still couldn’t make out much when it was open. He sighed.

So, who’d you find to help? he wondered, glancing around and seeing no one.

a fresh new rabbitskin had been wrapped around samplings from his new pharmacy. mahler carried it beyond the jagged stones that wylla had once feared. at his age the mountain was daunting, but he knew he was needed in its reaches.
and so he climbed carefully, touched by the faint wending scent of phaedra. heda's own trail was clearer.
nostalgia filled the man as windholme's loud voice reached his ears. he stopped to look at the river and found that the girl's trail led along here.
up ahead, a golden wolf and the former rivenwood girl waited. the gargoyle saw their mouths moving. he approached politely, though his gaze was already searching to examine the boy. "hello. i am mahler. heda tells me you are caracal? she has explained vhat has happened. may i look?"

so im gonna sit heda out till the end prob, just caracal and mahler now for a bit unless he addresses her!:D

"oh, he's just like — this old guy, or whatever. i knew him a while ago." she was both grateful and hateful when mahler appeared over the round horizon, carrying a bundle of something. 
the man made his own introductions. heda stepped away to the left as she tried not to bristle. "i'll be right here," she said with a quick, humorless look to caracal, and an angered stare flicked over mahler.
heda turned her back, staring at the feral river and its foaming waves.

He was too distracted to read into Heda’s reply, though now he kept an eye out for any sign of this old guy. When he eventually appeared, the yearling caught himself wondering how they knew each other.

She retreated and Caracal caught the look on her face, which drove up his curiosity. But before he could ponder it any further, the elder stepped forward and introduced himself as Mahler, unexpectedly speaking with an accent.

Almost every medic he’d dealt with had been a woman, not counting himself. And Caracal had promptly developed a crush on each and every one of them: Bridget, Sialuk, Lane. As his single eye stared at the scarred and swarthy Mahler and eventually found those stunningly violet eyes, his whole body began to prickle with heat.

He forgot to answer.

heda loathed him. the boy only stared. mahler looked concernedly between the young wolves and then busied himself rolling out his herbs and mixtures. when he looked up toward his patient. "for a goose bite, the best thing first is an astringent." he indicated a bit of moss soaked in a willowbark mixture.
he moved closer to carefully inspect the affected eye. "there is some tearing to the lens. the good thing about all of this is that you are very young. if you follow the regimen i set, i see no reason vhy your eye vould not heal."
but quite a regimen it would be. "are you still able to see out of this side, caracal?" mahler asked, encouraging the boy to speak this time with a single blink.

Caracal kept staring until Mahler said the word “astringent.” That word was synonymous with pain. Forgetting his momentary fixation, he recoiled from the spread of medicines laid out between them. Seeming to pay no mind to this, the man stepped nearer to inspect his eye. The proximity effectively arrested the yearling’s movement. He went still, quietly filling with dread.

The news that he might regain vision relieved it somewhat. The treatment would be painful and the healing unpleasant, but it would be worth it if he came out the other end none the worse for wear. Taking several shaky breaths, he tried collecting himself a bit and focusing on Mahler’s questions, keeping it clinical and avoiding looking at the guy directly.

I can see some light and shadow but that’s it, he replied, not sure what this might mean for his prognosis.

mahler, being heterosexual, could think of no reason caracal remained silent save foe shock. many wolves handled pain with such rapt focus upon silence. in this way they were similar to the prey which they themselves hunted. "vell, it is good that you can see anything at all," the gargoyle said softly. "light and shadow mean that shape and color might slowly return to vhat you see."
the man smiled and then harrumphed quietly. "i am going to clean it now. it vill sting," he said seriously to the boy. "you vill pull avay. this is all right, so long as you understand that i need to touch the surface of your eye at least three times."
mahler would not begin until caracal had consented to the beginning of treatment, for after the astringent came more.

Mahler said this was a good sign, then began explaining his next steps. Caracal listened, anxiety coiling in his gut, which at least made him forget his strange and momentary reaction to the man. Although he blanched a little at the healer’s words, they quite effectively nullified his fleeting attraction to the point of plausible deniability.

Oh god, he said, taking in and letting out a few deep, heaving breaths, okay. Let’s get this over with. Just do whatever you need to do.

mahler moved with an initial apology that faded as his ministrations began. 
after cleaning caracal's eyes with the willowbark mixture, mahler moved to the birchbark wash. he chewed it and packed it around the eye itself, though not directly onto the lens.
next was a comfrey glue, meant to carefully stick caracal's eyelid shut for the time being. his lashes would be caked with the mixture, which would slowly dry.
the end was a salve of honey and clay, which mahler arranged over the entire poultice itself. "the eye creates its own liquid, and it is this liquid vich also heals. your eye must be kept shut for at least a veek before ve know how it vill recover." he glanced to heda. "i do not think that it is appropriate the two of you should travel. you are vith duskfire glacier, yes?"

He tried to keep the flinching to a minimum, though the word “unpleasant” didn’t quite encompass how he felt throughout the treatment. By the time Mahler finished by applying something that smelled earthy and sweet, Caracal felt exhausted.

The goop on his face felt weird as hell, and Caracal didn’t quite know how to hold his head to keep it in place. This uncertainly resulted in the yearling sprawling on his side, his good side flush with the cool ground. He just lay there, practically blind, once more thinking of his older sister. How the hell did Fennec manage?

He heard Mahler comment about their travel plans, then ask a question. He wondered if Heda would field it but remembered the look on her face. These two clearly had some sort of history and Caracal doubted she really wanted to engage with him much. Despite being worn out, he could at least make his mouth work.

No, we came from Bimbos Summit. It’s way out west from here and there’s no way I feel up to heading back there. I honestly don’t know how the heck I’m gonna get off this mountain. I can barely see and my depth perception is probably shot to hell… Caracal mused, then glanced over at his “wife.”

bimbos summit? mahler shot an amused, slightly confused look toward both the boy and heda. "i vill help you. i think it is best you both descend into the hollow of sleepy foxes, vith myself. there i can look after you. my vife and our children are there, just us. ve can also figure out how best to send a message to this ... summit of yours."
the man cleared his throat, rocking back on heavy haunches. he could not very well force either of them, and nor did he wish this. but he did hope that caracal would see reason.
mahler snuck a glance toward heda.

After going back and forth for literally months, I’ve decided I’m going to shelve this boy. You’re welcome to NPC/PP him in any way that suits you, whether that’s staying with Heda and/or Mahler, or peeling off and disappearing. It is totally up to you!

Caracal didn’t need to think about it, saying, It’s up to my wife, his decidedly bleary gaze still resting on Heda.

If she would prefer to avoid this guy, then the two of them could manage on their own. Surely he knew enough basic first aid to avoid infection and they could take it easy for a bit until he was more ready to travel. Or if she thought it was best they stay close to a medical professional, at least briefly, then he would defer to that. He meant what he said.

Whatever they decided to do, he hoped it involved a nap soon. He was officially running on fumes now. He closed his good eye and let out a long breath, trusting in and waiting for Heda to decide his fate.

<3 tag for ref!

the boy would give no fight. heda would follow sullenly behind. and both would be taken into the hollow and to @Wylla, mahler informing her quietly of his intention to treat the young ones. but after a short while, caracal would leave, and heda would follow, only to find that he simply had not gone to the summit.