Ankyra Sound VIII. Standing in the back door crying, now you're going to need a friend.

The larger of the white wolves left. The second one moved with more insistence away from the grotto, and he came back just as quickly, while the other did not. Stryx wasn't attentive to who exactly returned with the herbs but she could smell their stink as soon as the wolf entered the grotto with them, and turned her attention promptly to his offering.

The boy beside her was struggling. She briefly shot him a command: Press the moss against her, and when the water runs red from them, take them to the pool—there—and rinse them. Do not stop. There were a few pools of water in the grotto, but they weren't ideal for what they needed. It would keep the boy busy though, and Stryx free.

The pale wolf had brought a few things: leaves, flower buds, but no root. Stryx scowled at his confirmation question and snapped, I need the root. I said to pull the plant up, the flowers aren't -- but she huffed, knowing it wasn't the time to argue. There were properties to these things that she could try to utilize too, although the root of the ginger plant was the most precious. The man was busy tending to the newborns anyway, and while Stryx was growing restless from all the tension buzzing among the group, she would not redirect him.

Instead she began to crush the flowers and the leaves together with the palm of her paw, grinding them against the dry stone underfoot. She took a piece of the moss that Surya hadn't used yet, added that in, and continued. As she worked she kept an eye on the woman but it became peripheral; then, when someone else arrived at the grotto mouth, Stryx's attention paused. She shot a look towards the striped stranger, bristling.

She didn't say anything at first. Rather, she gathered the poultice with licks of her tongue and then inserted her snout to Raleska's unmentionables and began to allocate the mixture where she thought the blood was thickest; some had coagulated, other sections flowed and carried bits of poultice away. It was frustrating but whatever Stryx was feeling did not matter.

I'm a medic! Do you need help? The boy questioned, and as Stryx lifted her bloodied face and chest away from the new mother's seeping parts, her eyes lit. There's so much blood. I'm trying to stop it, or slow it. Are you versed in such things? She didn't have time for amateurs.