Sleeping Dragon consulting the self

Lucani's 100th post!

The healer lay feverish upon the grass, inching towards what could be an unexpected death. It was dusk, and a low mist had settled over Sleeping Dragon. Among it was the grey wolf, who had been feeling weary and distracted for almost a day now but had diagnosed it as a head cold. By the time it had got worse, the fever had become such that she couldn't think straight. She needed... water... wet moss... perhaps the root of the... of the...

Her mind was a chaotic mess of words that failed her and concepts that seemed outlandish. Little waking nightmares gripped her, and she closed her eyes tight in a childish attempt to get rid of them. It was all that remained to her. Fever... water... no... moss... life... water... life... fever... fever... black... fever...

am I gonna have to strangle you? :o

Thuringwethil hadn't followed the scent with determination because something was wrong and she couldn't put her paw on it. The smell was off and concerned had gripped her throat early on but she did her best to ease her trouble mind. The day was slipping away from them but she wouldn't rest until she finally comes upon her gamma with a look of concerned smeared across her face. Her brows burrowed as she catches sight of the grey woman, a whine escaping her lips as she steps up. 

There's a part of her that tells her to stay back, a red flag waving up but she doesn't know much about healing or injuries or where fevers indicate contagion. Thuringwethil sweeps up next to her, however, and pushes her nose in her fir to confirm that somethings... simply not right. "Lucani?" she says softly but there's a dazed look on her face and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Sangilak can smell sickness, as well as any wolf could. She seeks it out with purposeful strides and by the time she arrives, there are two familiar figures before her. Sangilak dips her head in greeting to Thuringwethil but moves past her to the clearly unwell creature she had scented. Fevers could be contagious, but she knew of preventative measures. Sangilak was moreso a poisoner than she was a healer, but her hunger for knowing all meant that Sangilak had learned the remedies for things such as this. 

Nonfatal, she revealed. Not yet, in any case. Treatable. If she wants to survive. Some wolves did not have the mental fortitude to survive the fever; they fell into the delusions of nightmares, and let themselves die. Still, Sangilak knew what she must collect. And so she turned on her heel and bounded off, hunting for the herbs she knew of. Yarrow and feverfew she knew would do the trick. 

It took her time to find these things, but find them she did. It took her an hour to return to the others and she deposited the herbs on the earth, looking to Thuringwethil. Chew them, until they are softer. If the others throat was dry, or ached, it would make swallowing them as they were difficult. She turned away again, departing for a brief amount of time. 

Again she returned, this time with a sizable broken stone. It held some water in it, and for now would be suitable until they could move the she-wolf nearer to a watersource. Sangilak placed this on the ground inelegantly, water rolling over the edges of it. She glanced to Thuringwethil and sought the herbs to check their status, and see if they would be ready for the other. 

;P

Had Lucani been in her usual state, she would have not been frustrated at her inability to find her own thoughts. She would have calmly and fortuitously deciphered them. And those she could not understand (such was the fever), she would have placed aside for later consideration. But this was an irony, for if she'd been in her usual state she would not be here now, lying on her belly upon the grass, panting lightly and then falling still. Maybe there were wolves, with voices and scents, or maybe there weren't. Sometimes the healer's yellow eyes opened, and either saw nothing or did not realise what she saw. Dark and wildly overheated and unable to do anything, she was stuck in her own mind, and her own mind was slipping away fast.

Lucani didn't respond and Thuringwethil felt it strange enough that she started to feel panic rise in her chest. She couldn't remember anyone else off hand that knew anything. Snacha knew a little but she'd disappeared long ago and she hadn't really dealt with it. A strike of anger flashed through her with the abandonment and now her own healer was sick and unresponsive. The dark leader lifts her nose to call for someone, but cut short at the sight of Sangilak.

She sweeps her head toward the younger wolf as she speaks and then rests her grey eyes on Lucani with worry. Sangilak's words don't do much to ease her worries but she's not sure if that was the intent because soon she was gone and heda watched her disappear.

"Lucani?" she asks again, trying to get some response, trying to urge her to speak and tell her what's wrong or even what to do. Thuringwethil scans her surroundings for the return of her other wolf but it takes what feels like hours but eventually she approaches once more and drops something at her feet with direction. Her ears twitch upon her head and before she gets a chance to speak, the wolf is gone again.

The dark leader picks up the herbs and chews, carefully, until they are nearly mush in her mouth. She drops it near the woman and nudges the healer's snout where she'd placed them in hopes she knew what to do through the haze.

"What now?" she asks upon Sangilak's second return, trying to keep her tone even and shy of worry.

The herbs were chewed and combined. The feverfew would bring down the others temperature and remedy aches. Yarrow she had heard was a diaphoretic that would induce sweat in the other. The question asked was answered by Sangilak moved toward the others mouth. The other seemed unresponsive, and so Sangilak took some of the poultice Thuringwethil had made upon her paw and smeared it over the others chops. Sangilak wanted to see what the other would do; if her nose would remind her that she lived, if she would lick her chops and become aware by the acrid scent of medicines. She felt the others body heat in the process and grunted. Force-feed her, if she does not do it herself. Sangilak herself would have let the other die; mentally, Lucani might not return as she had once been. But the way of Thuringwethil seemed different than her own, and so she began to bathe the other with her tongue to cool her down this way. She started near the others hindquarters, in case Lucani saw it fit to come to then and snap at her. 

She did not know. Where she was or how she was. Nor who she was. She didn't know she was here to help, that she was here to care: not to be cared for. Here to think of others: not to be thought of. She did not know that her only reason to live was to aid in the lives of others. She did not know she was a tertiary character in other peoples' stories, nor that she was entirely content in this. Forever a spinster and singleton, a tall grey beacon of ever-giving light. She didn't know any of this. She did not know.

Her body, detached from her mind as it was, felt the cooling licks of another dog, so contrasting to the heat of her skin that steam almost rose. And while she didn't clock the mixture nearby, her dry tongue whipped out to instinctively lick her maw and might have caught a speck of the remedy as it did so.

Sangilak and Thuringwethil might have their differences but the dark leader isn't fond of the idea of losing their healer. An asset to Sleeping Dragon with their future changes, with children, but more than that, Lucani is important to the dark female. She'd been with them from the very beginning, sought her approval in ways she didn't expect, and there had been some concern in her actions when it came to the other. If they could save her, she'd do what she needs, but she knew she couldn't prolong her suffering if it's going to end against their favor.

The salve is smeared on her muzzle and Thuringwethil watches with baited breath to see if she'd take to remove what is on her. Sangilak moves in an attempt to cool her down and the leader stands there for a moment longer, staring, willing for the healer to take.

When she does, a sliver of pink shows and she jerks to get a closer look. Perhaps she'd taken to it, attempted to get it off, but there is still plenty left. Carefully, she bushes more toward her lips and withdrawals with a little on her nose she washes away. Then, without precaution to snapping jaws, begins to lick behind the woman's ears as soothingly as she could to mimic the actions of her newest recruit

*whistles innocently*

Sleeping Dragon had been in his sights for most of the day, and the sun was setting before he reached it again. And even after a day of constant travel, he thought he might patrol the south and east of the mountain before retiring to the Hollows in the morning. Warbone moved inland following the scent of sickness, his copper fur reflecting dully with the last sunrays of the day. But it was dark by the time he haphazardly came across Thuringwethil and Sangilak, tending to the prone, storm-grey figure of the Dragon's Gamma. At first he couldn't tell if she was alive or not, but as he plodded nearer (chuffing to announce himself) he realized that shallow breaths were saving her.

Warbone sniffed at the she-wolf's hindquarters, near Sangilak's tending area, and then looked up at Thuringwethil, curling his lip. "Surviving or not, she is not fit for her rank," he said ominously, folding his ears back to compliment his cagey frown. She was certainly not in a position to defend the title, at any rate. He knew little of sickness himself, but if he were to grow ill, he certainly wouldn't expect to retain his rank. That being said, he back away tensely from the Gamma's poisoned body— he didn't want anything she had. And wasn't she the pack's healer? How ironic.

Sangilak continued the process. She felt the bare minimum of movement in the other, and her eyes turn toward Thuringwethil. No need to ask; she knows the moment Thuringwethil moves to administer more. She is pleased with this development, and nods in approval of the leaders action of adding more. Add more, she recommended. If the other was responding by licking her chops, it would do well for the other to lick more than the small dose given before. Sangilak had brought the proper amount that would not be fatal and would what was needed, knowing too much could hinder more than help and not enough would simply be ineffective. Sangilak herself continued to cool the body, moving upward and watching the other figure for any movement. 

Omai. :3

Time lost its meaning, as did the presence of those around her. Those who cared, those who didn't. Time that moved, time that didn't. Light flashed within her eyelids as wolves moved around her, and everything picked up by her senses did not take root in her brain. But for some reason far more abstract than most of what the pragmatic female was capable of envisaging, her tongue whipped out to taste more of the mixture set before her — only once she felt someone licking around her sensitive ears.

There was an odd pause once she'd unconsciously eaten half the mixture. Like a breath before the storm. And then all of a sudden she started choking and wheezing, ribs contracting in her collapsed position. Her eyes rolled up in her head even with her lids closed, and she panted wretchedly.

It was almost as though she'd been poisoned.

The sound of another catches her attention, distracting in the care of her gamma, and she picks her head up to stare pointedly at Warbone. A growl rises in her throat and if she felt like she could leave Lucani's side, she might have jumped at him. The healer keeps her rooted, even when unconscious, and she quickly shifts her posture back into Heda, worry dissipating for the time being to deal with one of her wolves defying her decisions. Lucani would remain gamma until—if, she reminds herself—passes and it would not change because some hot headed wolf thought better.

"You do not decide the ranks here," she reminds him in a harsh tone, moving to step over the female on the ground as if she needs to protect her. If he did not see the importance of saving a healers life, then perhaps his position in her hierarchy, and her mind, should be reevaluated. Lucani had taken care of her enough times to give her this much and the woman, from her understanding, had been happy. Drageda would not fail her. Thuringwethil's fur bristles and her lips lift, flashing teeth in warning to her subordinate. "Get out of my sight before I decide to change yours."

D: this was not the intended!

"I do not," he agreed, and a surprised light came into Warbone's eyes before it was abruptly replaced by sudden resolve. Of course he sees the value in saving the healer's life— he had not suggested anything about letting her to her own fate— but: "the sick do not get to lead." A growl rose in his throat, as the black queen flashed her teeth unnecessarily at him, and ordered him to leave. "You would deny logic for emotion," he observed coldly. Because the healer meant something to Thuringwethil, meant she deserved her rank. Physical and mental constitution meant nothing. The wolf could be paralyzed like this forever and Thuringwethil would chew up her food and feed it to her like a mother bird. It was not arrogance; it was the facts of the Wild. But she loved too much, and Warbone did not blame her for the way she thought as opposed to his. He remembered then the reason behind his self-imposed isolation all that time. It came back to him in a sickening wave, and his shoulders rippled with the memory of his violent grief.

Warbone turned stiffly, and left. He would not set foot on Sleeping Dragon again.

Sangilak agreed wholeheartedly with Warbone's logic. It mattered not the love any had in the heart for the one beneath her, at all of their mercy. Sangilak was cold and unemotional herself, and while she was more than willing to assist Thuringwethil in this task, Sangilak digested the words that were said from the inky woman to Warbone. While she herself did not stop stroking her tongue against the furs of the sickly wolf, her thoughts rolled within her mind. She thought of Tatkret; she thought of the future, and of growth. Sangilak respected Thuringwethil, and her decisions were her own. But could she be led by yearning heart? 

The woman ceased movement as the other began to convulse beneath her. Seizure? Sangilak was swift in stepping off of the other, looking at the others face. Eyes rolled, choking, wheezing... Sangilak did not know what to do for this. Sangilak was an adept toxicologist, but none of the symptoms pointed to any herb that she knew of. Sangilak could think of nothing; if it were her, she would kill the woman, and with a hard look she turned to Thuringwethil. I have done all I could.

<3

Death would not become her. If she explained her ways to others they might conclude that she didn't really lead a life of her own, instead merely playing a part in the lives of others, but that didn't mean it should be taken out from under her. She had to stay alive for exactly that: the lives of others.

But she couldn't breathe. The bile in her throat was agony. But in that moment of clarity — the moment in which she realised she could feel pain — Lucani's addled mind grabbed on to the merest speck of lucidity and begged something of herself:

Fall over. Now. Fall onto your front. Onto your stomach. Hard.

She could barely move, let alone stand, but with further agony she inched shakily upwards a few weak inches and then... let herself drop. Onto her belly. Such was her position and the sickening heaves that claimed her, this sudden force on her stomach made her vomit painfully onto the grass.

Perhaps at any other point, things would have been different. If Warbone had kept his mouth shut about ranks instead of trying to take it out from a dying wolf, she might have been more concerned about where he was going. The wolf was still alive beneath her, even if she were convulsing—something she’d yet to take notice in the few seconds it took for the male to speak down to her and turn. Her teeth grind and she moves from above Lucani, watching him disappear before she’s turned, alarmed by the sudden movements. 

Sangilak has little to offer her and she knows what she needs to do. It has gotten to a point that all Lucani needs is mercy, there’s nothing they can do. She swallows the lump in her throat and takes a deep breath, trying to shed the concern of Warbone and Sangilak. Even the woman expressions were clear but they didn’t understand and she doesn’t have time to figure it out. If there is life left still in her healer, she’d save her if she could. If she killed her upon finding her, without knowing it could be fixed, she’d never forgive herself. But before it gets too bad, Thuringwethil watches and waits until she settles before she goes in for the older woman’s throat.

However, before she’s able to get close enough, the woman jerks once as the shaking stops and is able to sit herself up. It’s only a moment, but with her falling on the ground again, and expels the contents of her stomach. Without taking her eyes away from the woman, she steadies a shaky breath: “I will take care of her.”

Thuringwethil glances at the other woman but it doesn’t last long. Her intent is clear and her mercy remains on the tips of her fangs. She licks her jaws, knowing soon she’ll have another mark to add to her shoulder.

“Leave us.”

Sangilak remains silent and stalwart. The other is able to lift themselves, throw themselves downward, but sickness spews from her. It looks dismal; Sangilak only wonders why it is they still breathe. It was cruel of Thuringwethil, but then, Sangilak does not much care for niceties of it. The other would die sooner or later. None of this boded well for the silver woman, who Sangilak looked at as she would any creature that was dead or dying. She had not known the wolf very well, but remembered the kindness shown to the lanky stranger. There was no such thing as karma; good deeds were rarely ever repaid by the savage hand of death, who cared nothing for any thing, not even those that aided in its rising number.

Thuringwethil was regarded with a cool look when she was spoken to again. Sangilak wonders what it is the other will do, but does not much care, either. As far as Sangilak knew, Lucani was all but dead; discounted within the ranks. Sangilak adjusts her posture only minutely as she turns to depart, the movement not at all personal or cold, simply matter-of-fact. Sangilak simply did not see the other surviving this. And in minutes, she was gone.

Lucani felt it in her mind and she felt it in her bile. Poison, or else some cruel paranoia and delusion brought about by fever. But she did know it — the moment she'd expelled it from her body. When she'd vomited it was as if something had vanished from her mind as well as her stomach; some delirium had lessened... or was it increasing?

Either way, now when she opened her eyes she could see something, and between her eyelids were not simply the whites of her eyes. Her shaking and heaving calmed, and now she panted dryly, croakily. Through weak, bloodshot eyes she looked up like a pup to her mother, Thuringwethil huge and protective above her. She tried to say something, but hadn't yet found her voice. The healer was desperate to advise the most useful remedy in her field: water.

Sangilak departs and Thuringwethil watches for a moment, though the younger woman’s opinion of her doesn’t matter. She had a duty to protect her wolves and if it meant ending Lucani’s life to safe her from suffering, then so be it. She’d done what she could and there is little improvement and, for now, she’d take a moment to spend time with her alone before she put an end to her misery, to put an end to something potentially contagious that would hurt the rest of them. She only hopes that she hasn’t put Drageda in jeopardy by waiting as long as she has.

“Tel op ai disha en raitnes,” she murmurs, taking a deep breath and moves toward the healer.

Before she has a chance, her head is up a fraction. She’s panting, eyes red, and looking up at her. Her mouth moves but nothing comes out and she feels herself reel back. Lucani’s gaze is expectant and Thuringwethil snaps her jaw shut, closing off the death she’d nearly caused. What the woman wants, however, is unclear. Is she better? Does she want mercy? 

Slowly, Thuringwethil moves in close to put her nose in the space between her eye and her ear and nudges her gently.

“Chich, Lucani,” she says in a voice gentle for the giant, hoping for the answers to finally come from the other.

She was still lost in something odd and dark, the fever still hot beneath her ashen fur, but she was cooled somewhat — not just by the expulsion of what had festered within her, but from the cool licks of the two wolves who'd attended to her. Not that she could remember this.

Much of the haze had lifted, however, and while she felt sick and weak, and her bones were like sand and her mind like a storm, Lucani could formula some semblance of thought once more. She barely understood what Thuringwethil was saying, but for the first time in her life she was able to look directly into her Heda's eyes (quite by accident, of course, and being half-dead she was as submissive as was possible to be). She saw that they were dark grey and filled with concern. It was this that motivated her to try once more to speak. W-water, she begged in a hoarse whisper.

She knows her words would mean little to the healer and perhaps they were more of a comfort to herself, enough to draw Lucani back into lucidity enough to rouse her confusion. It takes several moments and a bit of effort to shove heda away when their eyes meet. Her jaw tightens and once she has put it away from her mind, for the moment, knowing the healer meant nothing by it, she’s able to stammer out a single word.

Her ears fall back on her head and she remains still for a moment, trying to decide what to do. If Sangilak had still been here, she could have used her assistance, but she was gone, and glancing around left her empty handed until—

Thuringwethil moves around from the broken stone that still has a small puddle of water in the crater and she nudges the woman’s muzzle in her direction. “Here,” she tells her, drawing attention to what little remains in the curvature of the stone.

As she began to slowly regain control of her thoughts, each one that crawled into her mind was darker than the last. Many came in the abstract form of unknown faces — the pack at Sleeping Dragon, a stream of warriors with power and impatience. Had one among them poisoned the pack's Gamma?

It was a sick question, and stung at the back of her throat. When Thuringwethil directed her to water, the grey wolf dragged herself towards it with great difficulty and pain, and drank every last drop of it until her tongue was pulling roughly over dry stone. She swallowed several times, and blinked up at her Alpha once more. You have s-aved my l-ife, she uttered with a voice like sandpaper. Th-ank you.

The scent of vomit finally reached her nose, and she twitched an ear and regarded the scene weakly. There were other scents, very recent ones. One familiar, one male and unknown. There were the remnants of chewed-up herbs she dimly recognised. What a scene...

Wh-at happened here? she asked, feeling that getting to grips with her immediate surroundings was the first step to total clarity.

Lucani was quick—as quick as could be allowed—to make the stone dry and continued even with nothing there. She frowns, and wishes to take it and refill it but she doesn't want to leave her alone. The two wolves might not agree with her decisions, but she's come to and it's only a matter of time until she figured out exactly what happened.

The older woman swings her head and speaks, but not without struggle, and Thuringwethil closes her eyes for a moment to give the other time. If she could help her up and guide her to water, she could drink her fill. Even then, perhaps she'd be lucid enough to tell the young leader what to do and how to fix the problem.

Her slate eyes slide open when asked and from there, Thuringwethil tells her and her entire focus is on the healer until they are able to get her somewhere for her to rest.

I hope it's okay to just wrap this up here.