Redhawk Caldera See the line where the sky meets the sea, it calls me

It was much too cold for a youngster to be out and about as an unseasonable freeze gripped the caldera, but not even the chilliest of weather would stop young Lagan. Despite the chill creeping up from his paws and legs and the brisk wind that cut through his guard hairs, the Blackthorn moved quickly down a slope, seemingly not bothered by the weather. His boundless energy was enough to keep him warm even on blustery winter days, yet his undercoat could use some filling in, so by the time he dipped into the trees surrounding the old Redhawk rendezvous site, he was lightly shivering.

It likely didn't help that grasped in his jaws was an icicle, and stuck firmly to that icicle was his tongue. Lagan had found it sprouting from above one of the cavern entrances further down the caldera's slope, but quickly found that it wasn't something he should boisterously lick. Boisterous licking was one of Lagan's many ways of showing both interest and excitement, but in this case, he'd received a rude awakening when the icicle refused to let go. Left with no other choice, the boy had tugged and tugged with his jaws until the whole thing cracked off the top. Fast forward to now, as he padded into the center of the rendezvous site with the icicle still attached, and a bewildered Lagan spun about and uttered a muffled, "Hewp!"

Finley had returned just in time for the temperatures to plunge, and for that, Elwood was thankful. He chose not to think about what the frigid weather would mean for Lucy, if she was still out there; the other option was to believe that she was deceased, and he wasn't sure which he preferred. So he focused instead on the family that was alive and well and surrounding him, and worked hard to help Finley adjust back to pack life.

Lagan's voice drew Elwood's attention and his ears stood tall. He looked up, surveying the frosty rendezvous site, and was soon rewarded with the appearance of his lanky son. The boy sounded worried, and coupled with the way he was frantically looking around for someone, Elwood felt concerned. The icicle clasped in Lagan's mouth didn't go unnoticed, but he didn't yet realize that Lagan didn't have a choice in putting it down.

"Hey buddy," he said as he approached, brows knit together gently.

On any other day, he might've tried to chow down on the thing in his mouth, but there was a certain discomfort to having it pressed against his tongue, and the chill was beginning to sink into his teeth. There was just nothing very fun about it, and he cast around for something or someone to help him out of his predicament. Soon enough his eyes latched on Elwood and with a relieved sound around the icicle, he trotted toward his father with his tail hung low.

"Hewbew," he tried to say, but "dad" proved to be a very difficult word to say with one's tongue pressed against a frozen stick. "Iwmthew," he tried again, and furrowed his brow when even he couldn't really tell what he'd been trying to say. It was too bad it wasn't Liffey. Lagan would surely have peed himself laughing if anyone else was stuck in this comical position, but since it was him, it was far from funny. In fact, his eyes prickled uncomfortably as completely unbidden tears gathered in the corners.

Lagan had always had a mild speech impediment, but Elwood had never been unable to understand his son. So when Lagan spoke and the word was completely unintelligible, Elwood realized something was wrong. He came to a halt and looked at his son for a long moment, frowning as Lagan tried to speak again and was met with the same result. The icicle was hindering him from talking clearly -- and it didn't seem the boy was able to put it down.

Slowly, comprehension dawned on him. "Oh, no," he breathed, taking a few quick steps to bring himself closer to Lagan. "Is the icicle stuck to your tongue?" he asked, fighting to keep the corners of his lips from twitching up into a smile. The panic Lagan felt was evident on his face as his eyes pooled with tears. "It's okay, we'll figure it out," Elwood added hurriedly.

He reached out to gingerly take the tip of the ice pick in his own teeth. "Let me try --" he said, giving a gentle tug. He waited for Lagan's reaction before pulling any harder; all the while, he was thinking of Plan B for when this inevitably didn't work out.

He blinked wildly, trying his best to chase away the tears. Strong boys didn't cry! said no one in recent years, but Lagan was a little stubborn that way. Eljay cried all the time, but for all the ways that Lagan aspired to be like his elder sibling, he didn't think crying was very fun, and avoided doing it himself when he could. But he was still just a young boy and his tongue was held fast to an icicle, so it seemed like an appropriate time if ever there was one.

Elwood, as always, was stalwartly comforting. Lagan never had anything to fear when his dad was around. He proffered the end of the icicle readily, but he wasn't really prepared for what came next. Elwood tugged, and his tongue tugged too, and his muzzle wrinkled as he fought to decide whether it was more painful or more weird. No matter how it felt, he huffed out a panicked, "nuuh!" around the icicle. There had to be another way, preferably one that didn't leave him tongueless!

I mean, he already sounded sometimes like he didn't have a tip to his tongue, but there was no need to make that any worse!

"Okay, okay," Elwood said, backing off when Lagan verbalized his distress. The icicle was stuck fast to his tongue, and simply pulling it off wouldn't be as easy as he had hoped. He supposed they could try to break it, but then they ran the risk of causing harm to Lagan's mouth if the shards punctured him. So Elwood made two decisions: they would try running water, and if that didn't help, he would call for Raven.

"Let's go to the creek -- maybe the water will help loosen it up," he said, keeping his tone light so as not to further worry the boy. He gave Lagan's shoulder a gentle nudge then led the way towards the stream that ran through the rendezvous site, pausing when he reached its edge. "Try dipping your snout in," he said, watching Lagan with apprehension. He knew the temperature of the water would be low, but perhaps it would be enough to begin melting the icicle.

Lagan bobbed his head and followed along in Elwood's steps, all the while fighting back the unbidden tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes. He didn't even know why he was so upset. No doubt he would, the very next day, be right back to licking icicles and thinking they were cool as all hell. But today he was not a fan of icicles, and desperately wanted it removed from his tongue.

They reached the stream without further incident, minus Lagan tripping once or twice, and he heeded his father with all the trust a young boy could muster. After all, Elwood was one of the coolest adults he knew, and his dad always knew what to do. The levelheaded Beta was as much a role model for Lagan as his soft-spoken (and depressed) elder brother. So Lagan stepped up to the edge of the creek and did as he was told, dipping his entire muzzle down into the water. There were just two problems:

Lagan could not breathe underwater.
And the water was freezing cold.

He arced his head out of it in a striking rendition of a mermaid's hair toss and immediately sneezed loudly to eject the cold water from his nostrils. The water itself had done nothing to the icicle, but the force of his sneeze tore it free of his tongue, which immediately began to slowly ooze blood where the skin had been ripped off. The coppery taste filled Lagan's mouth as the tears finally fell from the shock of how quickly that all happened.

While Elwood was a smart wolf, this was perhaps not one of his best moments. He watched with bated breath as Lagan obediently followed his directions, submerging his snout into the water. But Elwood hadn't thought to check the temperature; obviously, he knew it was cold, but it didn't occur to him that it would be so cold as to cause Lagan more discomfort.

So when the boy suddenly reared back, his neck twisting in a way that didn't even seem plausible, Elwood paced backwards quickly, caught off guard by the abrupt reaction. A few drops of water flew so far as to splatter on his own nose, and he was blinking in surprise when Lagan sneezed. When he retrained his gaze on his son, Elwood said, "Oh good--" but quickly interrupted himself with a strangled sound at the sight of the blood pooling on the snow. Lagan had sneezed the icicle off, but had managed to rip his tongue in the process.

Now Elwood knew he was in over his head. How the heck was he supposed to stop a tongue from bleeding? "Okay, hang on, bud -- I'm going to call for @Raven to come help," he said as calmly as he could, then tipped his head back and howled for his niece. This would be the first nor last time he requested the young medic's assistance.

It truly wasn't as bad as it looked. The concoction that dripped from Lagan's tongue to the snow was about two parts saliva and water and one part blood, but due to the strong colour of blood itself, it was almost impossible to tell that his tongue wasn't horribly disfigured. It was pretty minor, in fact, but it stung something fierce as he pulled it back into the warmth of his mouth, and he was appreciative when his father called for Raven. Even though he was a bit dubious about how she knew what she knew without a conclusive explanation for it, Lagan easily trusted the healer and knew she would know just what to do.

By the time she arrived, if she arrived, his tongue would mostly have stopped its bleeding anyway thanks to the miracle of tissue factor present in saliva.

As the minutes ticked past, Elwood peered anxiously at his son's mouth. The boy had calmed considerably, and even appeared to be waiting patiently for Raven's assistance. But while Elwood knew she was reliable, he was also aware that she wasn't always available at his beck and call -- so when she didn't seem to be on her way, he assumed she was out of range and that he would have to take matters into his own hands.

Luckily, the flow of blood seemed to have slowed. "Let me take a look," he said, leaning closer to his son's bloodied muzzle. "Raven might not be around; but she probably would just tell you to be careful when eating and drinking for a few days, while it heals. How does it feel?" he asked. At least Lagan already had a lisp, so any speech impediment resulting from the injury would probably go unnoticed.

He guided his son to a place where he could rest, then stayed close for the next couple of hours, making sure that the wound didn't reopen. By that evening, Elwood had determined that Lagan would be just fine, as the boy slept soundly with the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth.