Fairspell Meadow and i run from wolves.

Cypress. So this was the Cypress Alya had spoken of! Lyra turned to look for a moment at the roguish boy, his long, dark hackles standing on end, swaying back and forth as he fought off the wolverine. She shook her head to refocus, turning her attention back to the bleeding girl who now lay on the ground, shivers racking her spine. She gently nudged her on the shoulder reassuringly before turning to look at the gashes on her flank.

She only just managed to size up the wound before there was the sharp snap of bone and a blood-curdling shriek from the creature. Lyra pinned back her ears and grit her teeth, though she knew what had to be done. It's fate had been sealed the moment her sisters had laid eyes upon it. Trying not to look at the bloody scene, the girl looked to the equally messy leg of the stranger, feeling worry rise up her chest due to her lack of experience in this situation. What was she meant to do here?

Tentatively, she began to carefully lick at the other girl's injury, keeping an eye both on her — in case she reacted as violently as the wolverine — as well as the fight unfolding before them.