Big Salmon Lake Can I get a connection?

@Llewellyn if you have time, otherwise AW. :)

Shit.

Her naivety was bound to catch up to her at some point--Although, this seemed more like bad luck. She had been going along, minding her own business, when BAM, she was suddenly way too close to a Lynx. A Lynx that was very angry to have been startle by a wolf and had lashed out with its claws, leaving three nice gashes across Speedy's shoulder. Luckily, the cat was just as eager to get away as Speedy was, and they both took off in opposite directions without any further injury. Except, not all that lucky for her, as she now had a wound that needed to be dealt with, and it just happened to be in a very hard to reach place. 

She was silently cursing herself for being so stubborn and refusing to join a pack. Had she had packmates to help her, this would all be a lot easier. She racked her brain for some creative plan while she made her way to her closest herb cache. At least she had been close enough to the small stash she had kept hidden near the lake she often visited. When she got to the small pile of rocks and branches, she very carefully moved some things out of the way, blood oozing from her wounds with every movement, and the pain causing her to occasionally wince. Finally, she uncovered her well-hidden herb stash and was relieved to see everything she needed. First, she pulled out the elder bark and immediately began chewing and swallowing a large piece. She also pulled out some marigolds, comfrey root, and cowebs; all would be necessary in treating the wound properly. The only problem she had now was figuring out how to apply it to her own shoulder. The majority of the wound was just out of reach, and so it would be pretty much impossible to place anything there with her mouth. She picked up another piece of bark and chewed it as she continued to try and think of a solution to her problem.

The lake near the Moonspear has good fishing, this time of year. Llewellyn does not let his distaste for the creatures affect his hunting patterns; the pack, too, needs to eat. Bigger game is harder to take down, alone, and fish tend to be more fatty than the odd rabbit or squirrel. He spends a decent amount of time here, stalking the water and watching the ripples. Watching and waiting. That is hunting, in a nutshell, but it applies especially to fishing.

The art of fishing is best undertaken by a patient soul.

He is distracted by movement away from the shore, a blur of brown and white. The prince lifts his head, eyes flashing, and he draws in a deep breath. Speedy. The scent brings her face immediately to mind--and to his alarm, it is tinged with fresh blood, today. Sparing no last thought for the salmon--they will, presumably, be there when he returns--Llewellyn trots quickly after her, coming onto the scene as she struggles with self-healing.

"What happened?" he asks roughly, sparing no time for greeting. His gaze flickers to the gashes on her shoulder, red and raw. There is another smell lining her pelt he cannot place. "Who did this to you?"

She was so concentrated on her task and the pain of her wound, that she didn't even hear the male approach. His words made her jump before she realized it was him. Cadwalader, she said with a relieved sigh, glad to be in the presence of someone she knew. Um, well, I sort of accidentally surprised a lynx and was met with its claws in response, she said, a sheepish expression crossing her face. She realized how stupid she sounded right now. She had a bad habit of not always being aware of her surroundings; it was high time it caught up to her and taught her a lesson. Of course, the situation could have been a lot worse, but she was still left with a decent wound that would get infected if not addressed. 

It's not too bad, she lied, glancing down at her lacerated shoulder. Her adrenaline had long worn off, and the gashes were starting to throb. She tried to ignore it and focus on the more important task of how to apply these herbs to the hard-to-reach spot. She looked back to the golden male then, wondering if she could enlist his help. She was torn between asking him and just figuring it out for herself. How weird would it be? 'Hey, we barely know each other, but will you chew these herbs and put them on my wound?' He seemed like a nice a guy and had already offered her a place to stay for the winter, so maybe he wouldn't think it so weird to help her with this; or maybe he would, but she would never know if she didn't ask. I have...a weird question, she finally said with strained smile.

The name takes him aback--he's momentarily forgotten that he had given her the name, atop the peak. He hopes the surprise that flits over his face can be read as simple shock at her reappearance, and his eyes narrow at her response. "A lynx?" He is not familiar with the term, though he figures it must be some sort of predator, by the wound and the acrid smell lingering there.

Then she asks to make an inquiry--a weird inquiry, at that--and his ears fold slightly backward, wary. Though he had taken kindly to the woman before, they did not know each other all that well; he does not know whether he is up for the challenge of tackling whatever she has in store for him. Pray it be easy. Llewellyn lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders in reluctant acceptance.

"Certainly," he rumbles. "What is it?"

She nodded her head, Yeah, they're much smaller than the mountain lions I've seen, but their claws hurt just the same. She usually tried to stay far away from any other predator she scented, but when she wasn't paying attention like she should, stupid shit happened. 

When Cadwalader agreed to help without even hearing what her request was, she wanted to kiss his cheek but refrained. Instead, she gave him a grateful smile and answered, I need some help applying a couple things to these wounds to keep them from getting infected and to stop the bleeding. She looked towards the flowers and the cobwebs on the ground next to her. Those golden flowers need to be chewed and applied to the wounds, she explained. She gave him a apologetic look and added, I'm sorry. I would do it myself, but I can't reach the area very well. she watched his expression after she had given him her request to gauge his reaction and said nothing else, waiting patiently for his answer.

He stores away the information for later, hoping--for the cat's sake, of course--that he'd never come across the creature. He focuses instead on what she asks of him. . .and as she speaks, his mouth quirks in the smallest of smiles. That was it? The way the girl had approached the question had made him think something earth-shattering was to come. Llewellyn was no healer, but in a pinch?

"Of course," he responds, his tone making it clear how little of an inconvenience this was for him. He bends to take the flowers in his mouth, squinting slightly at the foreign, earthy taste but chewing nonetheless. Once they had been ground done into a respectable paste, he began to do what she had asked, attempting to be as gentle as possible with the fresh wounds.

Once he had done his duty--or the first part of it, at least--Llewellyn steps back, sapphire eyes fixed on her in quiet expectation. "I assume you want the cobwebs applied, as well?" he asks, raising a brow. He was no stranger to battle medicine, but he figures that he should ask her permission before leaping into the next segment of the process. Baby steps.

She was relieved when it appeared that the golden male did not mind helping her. Speedy watched as he picked up the flowers in his mouth and began chewing. She noticed the look on his face when the taste of the plants hit his tongue as he chewed. Sorry, she said quietly, I should have warned you that they tasted a little strange. It hadn't crossed her mind initially, as she had grown accustomed to the strange way most flowers and herbs tasted. 

She braced herself for the pressure on the wound she knew was coming but still winced a little when he applied the flower paste to the tender laceration. When he stepped back, she examined his work. Looks good, she commented, moving her gaze up to meet his. When he asked about the cobwebs, she smiled warmly at him. Yes, thank you. That's the final step, she answered with a single nod of her head. Again, she braced herself as she waited for the pressure that would once more be applied to the wound when he placed the cobwebs on top.

He gives a curt nod to her praise, the small smile over his lips the only outward indication of his pleasure at her giving said praise. She doesn't even know his real name; he is keeping his cards close to his chest, with this girl, nice as she might be. Too nice, really. There is a tiny voice in his head screaming that he ought not to trust her.

Kind and candid--that was the nature of a spy, at least in Mynydd. They lured you in with their warmth, then cooled when the moment was right: by the time you picked up on it, it was too late. They had you in their clutches.

Llewellyn does not intend to be snared by this girl.

He layers the cobwebs on top, trying to smooth them down as evenly as possible over the poultice already applied. It is quiet, methodical work, and he finds some peace in it, eyelids sinking slightly with the continuous motion. The job is done after some minutes; he steps back again, looking at her once more. He needs a drink, he thinks, to wash the taste of greenery from his mouth.

"Now, can you do something for me?" Llewellyn asks, raising his brows.

Speedy remained silent as the golden male went to work applying the cobwebs to her wounds, watching the diligent way he preformed the task. She occasionally winced a little when he touched a particularly tender spot but otherwise, kept any discomfort to herself. Her mind kept flashing to the encounter with the cat as she sat and waited for him to finish. She kept thinking about how much worse it could have been. What if it had been a cougar or something? There were many things much worse than a lynx that could have ended her journey, and it was by sheer dumb luck that it had been something that she was able to escape from.

Her morbid reverie was interrupted when he stepped back, indicating that he was done. She glanced down at her wound and with a nod, looked back at Cadwalader with a tired smile. Thanks, she offered. It was very sweet of you to help me out, she added. Although it was something she would do even for a stranger, she knew not everyone was quite as trusting as she was, so she was grateful that he had agreed to help her. He then asked if she would do something for him. Of course, she replied with no hesitation. She would have agreed to help him even if she didn't feel indebted to him, so she didn't even need to ask what exactly he needed before offering her compliance.

"Don't pick any more fights with cats," he says censoriously, without preamble. He shoots her a jaundiced look, eyes raking over the freshly applied cobwebs. "I may be able to bandage you up, but I'm not the best at it. And I certainly don't want to get into the habit."

Behind his gruff tone is, of course, genuine concern for her well-being. Llewellyn has always struggled with showing that kind of softness toward others; he has to coat it in a lecture before doling it out, and he's learned the rough way that many do not appreciate words of advice to come with thorns, not honey. Nevertheless, she is not a stupid girl--he hopes she catches his true meaning, and takes the concern to heart.

He flicks an ear, snorting softly as he casts aside those rambling thoughts. "Are you still on your own?" he inquires, voice losing the thunder from before. "Have you found a place to settle for the winter, yet?" He has seen the leaves on the lowland trees beginning to change; it is not long, now, before the ice comes.

She laughed a little. His request wasn't quite what Speedy had expected, but even through his roughness, she felt the concern there. She had to admit it was nice that he seemed to really care. Don't worry, I don't intend to, she replied with a small smile. She never wanted to see a cat of any kind ever again. This wound hurt and was going to put a damper on things for a little while. 

She shuffled a little uncomfortably on her front feet and looked away when he asked if she had found a place to settle yet. She had a feeling he wasn't going to be very happy with her answer I am still on my own, she replied. I have a few options, but I haven't decided yet, she added, risking a glance at his face to see what emotion she would find there. She really was going to settle eventually, but she still had a little time left to enjoy her freedom. She wasn't going to join a pack before she absolutely had to, no matter how stupid it seemed to others.

He gives a brusque nod, not altogether trusting that she will stick to that intention--but he does not have the energy to lecture her, now. She is a grown woman, if young; she can take care of herself. And if she chooses to make choices that put her in harm's way. . .so be it. Llewellyn cannot always come to her aid.

The flicker of disappointment over his face at her answer is brief; he keeps his face otherwise impassive, trying not to let on that her indecision is not the response he was looking for. "There is not much time," he rumbles, his voice grave. "The snow could come sooner than we think. It always has a way of surprising us."

He tilts his head toward the mountains, eyes lighting on a particular peak to the north. "I have pledged my allegiance to Moonspear," he told her, still looking that way. "They are a good pack, a family pack. They--we--will take care of you, if you come to our borders seeking a home." It was as much of an invitation as he would give. True loyalty came not from coercion but from commitment; she must want to live there, if she was worth having at Moonspear.

Although it was brief, she did not miss the disappointment that crossed his face when she answered his question. She wasn't surprised to see the expression there. His concerns were valid, but she still had some time. She sighed when he mentioned the approaching winter weather. She had noticed the days getting colder and colder, her southern coat not offering much in the way of warmth. I know winter is close, but I still have a little time before I have to make a decision, she replied. The concept of snow was not very appealing to her, and the thought of being caught in it was pretty unpleasant. Well, she assumed it would be. She had actually never even seen real snow before. It sounded wet and cold, which were two of her least favorite things.

He once again offered her safe harbor for the winter. She followed his cerulean gaze to the mountains in the distance as he talked about the pack he had joined. It was only then that she realized his scent was mixed with the scents of other wolves that she assumed were packmates. That's very nice of you to offer, she replied with a warm smile. She would like to get to know him more and try and meet the wolf inside the walls he so clearly had up. She suspected it would take a while to really get to know him, so it would give her something to look forward to while she was stuck in a pack for a few months, assuming he let her in at all. It sounds like a nice place, she added a moment later. Maybe I will make my way there soon. she said. I plan on making you my friend, though, so I hope you're prepared for that, she informed him with a shy, teasing smile. She was stubborn, too, so she had every intention of doing exactly what she promised should she end up joining his pack.

Stubborn, stubborn. He gives her a narrow look as she speaks, and lets the barest of snorts escape his nostrils, but says no more. It is her prerogative. Everyone has lessons to learn in life; he simply does not want hers to be more difficult than necessary. The summer heat is hanging on doggedly; perhaps winter is farther off than he thinks.

Then again, some say that brutal summers beget brutal winters. What might come late might also come with a vengeance.

She manages to get him to chuckle dryly at her joke, though he covers it up with a roll of his eyes. "I suppose I can bear it," Llewellyn murmurs, one corner of his mouth turned upwards in a half-smile. "I've no choice in the matter, really." This friendly girl would cling onto him whether he likes it or not. Secretly--or perhaps not--he looks forward to it.

She was not surprised by his subtle disagreement with her plans, but she didn't really need him to approve of what she did. She didn't remark on it, though. She knew it most likely came from a good place, and as annoying as it was that he thought she didn't know what she was doing, she appreciated his concern. Besides, she had gotten along this far and managed to stay mostly in one piece--aside from the wound currently throbbing slightly on her shoulder. She would really be more careful going forward. The run in with the cat had scared her enough to make her realize how stupid it was to not be fully aware of her surroundings at all times, especially when wandering around on her own. She had been incredibly lucky that Cadwalader was the one to find her while she was somewhat vulnerable and not someone wishing to cause her further harm.

Speedy grinned, her golden eyes filled with amusement. She liked that she had put the teasing half-smile on his generally serious face. Nope. You don't, she said, lifting her chin in a playfully self-satisfied manner. It's good you realize that now, she added, lowering her chin to smile at him again. Her expression turned more serious, then. I really do appreciate you helping me, she told him. It would have been quite the painful ordeal had she been forced to tend to her wound alone. As much as she hated it, it was becoming more and more apparent that she was better off in a pack than as a lone wolf. 

A yawn opened her mouth wide and pushed her ears against her head, surprising her. She shook her head after, wincing a little as the movement jostled her injury a bit. The run in with the cat and the adrenaline rush that accompanied it had taken a lot out of her apparently. Sorry, she said, sleepily. I should probably find somewhere to rest, she finished, rising to her feet. There were a couple spots around here she could rest for a bit without being found; she had become kind of an expert at finding those kinds of places. Thank you for your help, Cadwalader, she said, a warm smile returning to her face. Don't be surprised of you find me calling for an audience at your borders soon, she added, her tail wagging a little with the statement. She didn't move anywhere just yet, though, in case he had anything else he wanted to add before they parted ways again.