Blackwater Islands soft like trees in water, shaped to soothe and move

@Gabe

 

her eyes scoured the earth for the best place to begin her garden. Galateia had been brought here by Akantha, whom soon left her (at her request) so that she could work on walking alone. Akantha had been reluctant, though with her gentle assurances the Matriarch allowed it—she would never be far, not upon the islands they claimed. Galateia had promised not to move deep into their woods for the warnings given by Kalika and Akantha of the bears that lurked.

Gabe's face was burning. He had no medical training whatsoever, so he had no idea how to help himself. All he could do was wander the beach feeling sorry for himself and keep living. How could he have been so foolish? This pack clearly wasn't the family he'd thought it was. He had traded in freedom, to be somebody's bitch. Somebody who said they liked him, who said he could trust them, who he'd genuinely cared about. Two times in his life he'd placed his faith in someone he shouldn't have, and he would never do it again.

He felt so stupid, so helpless, and in pain. He wanted to run away, to swim from the island and never go back, but surely the Sisters would find him. He had nowhere to go, no one to talk to. He'd spent all of last night sitting and staring out at the sea and hating himself. He'd really fucked up his life, everything that'd ever happened to him happened because he followed his heart and saw the best in people. Never again. 

He stopped walking when he noticed a white furred beauty, scanning the ground around her. Normally he would've walked towards her happily, given her a friendly introduction and talked with her. But he remembered what'd happened last time he'd done so, when he opened his mouth his lip began to sting. Wincing with the pain, instead he started to keep walking down the beach, his head hung. For some reason one of the puncture marks on his muzzle had started to ooze again, and the smell of his own blood filled the air.

it was the smell of blood that caused her head to turn, and her eyes to find the pale man she had not yet met. Galateia did not know their name, and moved toward them on unsteady limbs. they burned with every move she made and yet she willed herself onward until she could move no further, the pain was too great! and so she stood there, watching him move away—she called to him: you are hurt! in a warm, worried voice, come to me, please! the wind carried her voice, but even still she was not sure he would hear the mellifluous tones that came from her lips.

Gabe didn't turn his head the first time she spoke to him, he only flinched at the sound of her voice. She scared him, because he knew what the women here were like. One moment they're treating your wounds, then next they've pinned you down and are tearing at your face. But when she said 'please', something clicked in him. He realized that he hadn't really heard anyone else here say please before, other than himself as he begged for Kalika to believe him. Maybe she was different. It was a slim hope, and he quelled the idea before he could think anymore on it, but it did make him turn his head.

Unsure, the frightened boy stared at her for a moment, his golden eyes trained on green ones. Then for some reason he started to move, back from the direction he'd come over to her. He stopped a few yards away, enough distance to turn and run in case she proved to be untrustworthy. Staring at her pitifully, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it with a sharp gasp. He felt another scab rip and blood strayed to drop from there as well. His once handsome face was now a gruesome sight, though with time it would heal.

at first, he did not listen, and rather than feel fury Galateia fret he had not heard her—but she realized he had, when he turned to look at her after she had spoken again. her ears perked and cupped, and her tail waved slowly in a manner meant to display her goodwill. his tentative behavior led her to believe he was wary—perhaps of her. perhaps the wounds he wore were a punishment for an ill deed he had done, though she felt certain that no Sister would begrudge him medicine to heal. 

he approached her, and parted his lips to speak. she watched as a scab opened, and took some steps toward him. upon him, she could smell Kalika; the woman had been tense, as of late—she asked no questions on the matter. have you washed the wound? she inquired gently, her eyes upon the wound. she knew what herbs were necessary for this, but first was the matter of ensuring it had no dirt within it.

The woman was acting so kind, so friendly. He would've felt inclined to like her, if he hadn't changed. He was more wary of the kind now, for they were the ones who left the deepest wounds. But for now he let her do what she wanted with him, because he believed she wouldn't hurt him. He tried to believe that at least. She asked him a question, to which he shook his head no. He figured sea water in cuts would only make he wound hurt more, and possibly become infected, and he'd been to tired to go exploring for a freshwater source.

the ocean was too far from them, and although she could use her companion to assist her with the journey she felt that, as the healing would be done within the woods, it would be best to remain near the forest. she knew of a stream that cut through it, and it was this they would seek. it would remove dirt before she would use her tongue to clean out the remnants. we shall do this, firstly, she informed him, and turned slowly. toward the forest Galateia moved, her movements strained and difficult. they would get to the stream... in time. I am Galateia, she introduced herself, I, too, hurt—I was found upon the shores by Akantha, and the first day I was here, I could not walk alone. it is difficult, even still, which is why I move so slow, her tone was regretful, apologetic; she wished they could move to the waters quickly, so she could begin her work. the pace would surely bother any who did not understand why it was they moved with the stride a turtle might—and it bothered her, on his behalf.

Gabe thought about what she said for a moment, then nodded. He would follow her, and try his best to trust her for now. Besides, with the slow way she walked it wouldn't be too hard to run if she turned on him. He hoped this awful paranoia of his would fade soon, because he truly hated it. He followed the woman, listening with his ears perked as she spoke. Her name was a beautiful one, though he knew how Kalika would disapprove of that thought. She told him of how she too was hurt, and he gave her a look of pity.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry to hear that, that he hoped she'd get better soon, but he didn't want to hurt anymore. He kept his mouth shut and walked at her side, staring quietly ahead.

she turned to him in time to see the look of pity, and it caused a small smile to form upon her lips. it is alright; in time, I will be well again. sooner than that, you shall be well again, for his wounds were only superficial, she noted. consistent reopening of them might cause them to scar, as would scratching at the scabs that would surely itch as they healed... but she had noted they were not terribly deep that he need fear horrific blood loss, or anything awful in nature. infection, of course, could cause worse bumps in the road for his healing journey... but Galateia would see to it that he did not suffer this. 

after a while, they arrived to the stream. she gestured toward it. dip your muzzle within, and let it soak; it will soften the scabs and the skin, and the moving water should dispel any dirt resting beneath or upon their surface. after, i will cleanse any remaining dirt with my tongue before we continue, she instructed and informed, resting on her hindquarters and catching her breath whilst she waited.

Gabe wanted to smile when she spoke, but he figured that too would cause him pain, so instead he attempted to smile with his eyes. They walked on in silence for the remainder of the journey and soon reached the stream. Galateia told him what to do, and he paused at the last part. Cleaning his muzzle with her tongue from far away could be perceived as a kiss, and if Kalika saw that surely she would kill him. He glanced around, his posture confident but fear in his eyes. He didn't really want her to know how afraid and sad he truly was, so he went straight to the task, and stuck his nose in the cold water.

It was cold at first, but he felt the cold turn to burning around his puncture marks. He winced, his legs trembling as the water passed roughly over his wounds. He stepped out quickly when he felt he'd finished, his muzzle dripping with water and blood.

if any were to object to her treatment in healing others, it was then they would know of her wrath. kind and caring was Galateia, sweet and soft—but she was a terrible force to be reckoned with when her passions, her work, were mistook for anything than what they were, or challenged. woe to any who question her within her field—all were deserving of her aid, lest The Mothers themselves (or Akantha) tell her otherwise. 

he emerged from the waters, and Galateia was true to her word—she attempted to do as she had said, and if he permitted this he would feel her tongue gently pressing against the areas she had noted needed work. once this was done, Galateia bid him to sit, if you will—I will retrieve some oak leaves, which both prevent infection and help close wounds, she informed. and then she moved to a cache not too far from them, retrieving what she had mentioned before returning to him. 

she chewed the leaves to a pasty consistency, and rubbed the salve upon a nearby stone, smoothed and cleansed by streamwater. Galateia had removed this some time ago, and twas the landmark she had brought him to and how she knew the cache was not so far from here. she looked to him. I will apply a small amount to your muzzle—it will sting, a little, and this is natural. if it itches too much, or it burns terribly, that is not, which is why I wish to apply only a little to ensure that you do not react adversely to it. some wolves cannot tolerate some plants, she explained—once again, she had not the word for 'allergy'. but so long as he could wander through oak forests without issue, he would have none here; Galateia simply wished to play it safe, and did not want him to feel any extra hurt. she waited for his consent before doing anything else.

Gabe gasped through his teeth as Galateia gently licked his wounds, even though she was careful it still hurt. She asked him to sit, and he eyed her again, still wondering why a siren like herself cared so much about him. Sure Indie and Salish hadn't been cruel to him, but he figured now that any one of them could be evil, and was just waiting to attack. He just didn't understand them, and his thoughts just kept swirling through his mind like a whirlpool. His eyebrows narrowed nervously, he plopped down onto his rump, and kept his amber gaze on her.

He watched curiously as she made the paste, it was odd, but he found it interesting. She turned back and began to speak to him again. He didn't want to feel it sting, he didn't want to go through more pain, but he would if only to make the pain go away. He nodded his head, glancing down at the paste on the stone.

only once he consented did Galateia apply the salve to his muzzle, ginger and gentle. for the moment, she applied it only to one spot—she wanted to ensure that what she put upon him did not cause him to feel discomfort, or a terrible itchyness that he was not meant to feel. after five minutes passed, Galateia inquired: how does that feel? and recalling he had not yet spoken to her, she went on, sensitive to his pain: nod if it is alright, shake your head if it feels unbearable,