Ravensblood Forest I reach my hand toward the traces they leave

Commander. He blinked at the title, his muzzle swinging back to study her with mild thought. “Just Constantine,” he requested, his tail sweeping through the air as he studied the state she was in. He was most worried for her lungs – the smoke that would have infiltrated them, and yet he did not know if it was even possible to offer her anything to assist with her breathing. But he could help her minor scrapes, her fatigue and even her stress.
 
Continuing on, the stocky wolf swerved as he neared one of the giant sequoias. His eyes drifted over the bark, and when he caught view of the leaking sap, he placed one paw up, pushing himself up higher to gingerly lick the bitter life of the tree on his tongue.
 
Dropping back down to four paws, he made his way back to her, his eyes studying her before motioning with his muzzle she should remain still. He swept his tongue across one of the more angry cuts then – attempting to be as gentle as he could, pressing the sap to her skin and hoping to form a shield of sorts, while trying to avoid rubbing it in to the burned areas. Ideally, he would have had access to honey – but he hadn’t seen a hive in their forest.
 
Stopping his ministrations, the Regal pulled back, studying his pale companion. “I’m sorry, I’m not a healer – my family was more talented with it than I. Does it hurt?”