Totoka River princess,

being vague about all her injuries b/c it's not finished yet but she definitely has injuries to her throat & right shoulder. tagging: @Stryx & @Sugar Glider

praimfaya lets out a small noise of pain, tasting the metallic tang of blood; unsure whether it is her's or the territorial woman's. it doesn't matter, she knows. what matters is that she gets somewhere safe. she can't be sure if the bleeding on her throat has staunched or not ...regardless, she knows she needs medical attention. the issue being, the coast is rather foreign to her and she knows not where she might receive such help. her body is sore: shoulder and the wound on her throat by the woman; a fault she supposes is her own. she should have walked away instead of pushing to pass thru the ravensblood. she should've ...but she hadn't.

her steps stagger, the pain and the feint feeling rising to a crescendo in her head. she is near the bank of the winding river now, and stumbles to it, crashing into the shallows with a loud splash and a unstifled cry of pain. blood stains the water like an infection and she trembles, though with what she isn't sure. she sloshes around in the shallows, trying to get the worst of the crusted blood off of her, a mixture of her's and the stranger's before she army crawls back onto the backs and collapses, telling herself that a few moments of rest might do her some good.

Having spent some time near Rusalka to do a checkup on Raleska, the ensuing few days following that have Stryx going further afield. She knows that the worst of the new mother's struggle is behind her, and that there are capable women to help her beyond what Stryx is capable as a visiting entity to their land; so she feels more at-ease with the concept of leaving. She picked her way east again, following the coast and occasionally dipping inland for sleep or sustenance.

Along the way she finds the trailing riverside. There are plants growing in dense clusters where the trees aren't as populous, and she investigates them. Chews at some of the grass shoots to settle her upset stomach, knowing it is hunger that plagues her and nothing more nefarious; then she plucks at a few bright blossoms, rolls them underpaw against the river stones, watches as the color bleeds from them, diluting against the pulse of the water.

She watches this trail of color, and her tired eyes unfocus. She can't stop thinking about Raleska; the gore that streaked the grotto, the poor children, the great toil of bringing them home. It was traumatic for the new mother but also for the medic, despite her training and experience. It would be a long while before Stryx had sorted it out in her own mind. That is when she spots something hazy in the distance — the crunch of summer-dried grass draws Stryx from her memories, and she thinks she can make out the hunch of shoulders further along the river's bank.

She goes in to physician mode almost immediately - sparing a quick glance at her surroundings in case this was something more than a one-off event - and hastily draws herself along to where the stranger has collapsed.

I'ma be vague about all the things.

The moment her foot went from actually aching to metaphorically itching, Sugar struck out for the coast again. She had no particular reason for venturing there aside from a certain fondness for everything the seascape offered. That included plenty of flotsam and jetsam she could sort through on the beach and add to the medical cache she'd decided to establish.

She stopped at The Sentinels and debated swinging southwest to pay a visit to Raleska. After chewing her lip a while, Sugar traipsed in the opposite direction instead, deciding to stick to her first task: searching for medical supplies. She quickly skimmed past the bay and the clusters of sea lions just yonder, planning to stop for a break when she reached the river. A drink of fresh water would be good after traveling in the late spring sun.

Instead, she found a bloody body slumped on the ground, a familiar face hovering over it. "Stryx!" Sugar shouted even as she closed the distance, eyes tracing over the prone figure. "What happened? Who is she?" What are the odds? she also thought but didn't say aloud.

praimfaya drifts, almost lulled into sleep by exhaustion, weak from the pain, from the blood loss. she hadn't felt this way when she'd fought in the conclave ...but she reminds herself through the haze of her wandering thoughts drifting without tethers that there'd been a slew of medics there to tend to her as soon as the battle(s) were won...

the sound of hurried footfalls approaching pulls her from the blissful promise of reprieve and on edge, wanheda feels the hair along her spine bristle with warning. had the insane woman come to finish her off? though if not for the interruption praimfaya suspects she would've won the fight. too sore from physical wounds, the sting of pride is absent.

she opens frostbound gaze to study the woman that approaches her only close enough to affirm that it isn't the crazy one. a stranger, this one. her left eye stings too much to keep it open for prolonged periods of time — a combination she thinks of the wounds around it and the blood that has dripped into it acting as an irritant. a voice joins them, also unfamiliar. her throat feels sore from the woman's assault upon it but praimfaya, though no medic, hopes it simply looks worse than it is.

st — talking pulls at the wounds uncomfortably ...but if she passes anything along let it be this ( though the inquiry of her name does not go unnoticed ). stay out of the bleeding forest. if she, almost a master warrior, suffers this much damage she would hate to see what another might suffer. her words come out with more pauses than necessary; a struggle.

praimfaya. she wheezes with pain. i am praim— praimfaya. though she does not expect her name to mean anything to either woman who has come to her aid.

She does a cursory examination - seeing the obvious carnage across their face, the blood on their neck, the ruddy red of it diluted across their frosted coat. The most dangerous wound was to the neck and it was now clogged up with sand; but that was better than leaving it exposed to leak everywhere. The initial seepage of blood was always the most important as it held antibodies specific to the knitting of wounds, not that Stryx was fully aware of the science behind it; but she had been trained for such things, and she knew that this would coagulate to the benefit of the injured creature. She moved forward, surged rather, and began to reposition the stranger's body so that she could tend to the issue.

That was when the familiar face of Sugar Glider appeared beside her. Stryx was surprised to see her of course, but greatful too. I don't know who this is or anything, doesn't matter. There's a deep wound to the neck. As she tried to explain this she motioned with a dip of her snout, but was already moving to try and put pressure there with the palm of her paws; it wasn't going to be enough. She needed moss, like with Raleska's wounds, or something else to help cover the wound. They're losing blood fast. I need something to block up the wound! The rest - the superficial stuff across the stranger's face and everywhere else - would have to wait.

The bleeding she-wolf surprised Sugar by speaking. The first few words out of her mouth struck her as nonsense, which she chalked up to blood loss and possibly delirium due to shock. Her attention went back to Stryx just in time to catch her words about packing the wound. She nodded her head and immediately dropped her eyes to scour the ground for something, anything that could serve as packing material to staunch the bleeding.

Then their patient rasped something else and Sugar's jaw literally dropped as she froze. "Praimfaya?" she repeated dumbly before collecting herself and resuming her search. Here near the river, there was plenty of grass, leaves and moss. She collected what she could as hurriedly as she could, stuffing it all in her mouth and hastily spitting it out beside Stryx.

She took another beat to marvel. Was this really Praimfaya? Should she call for Opalia? Would she even hear from this great a distance? Instead, Sugar inhaled sharply and said, "Tell me what you need me to do." She had some experience, though she knew from working with Stryx that she was more knowledgeable. Sugar was happy to play second violin to her, the two of them working together to make a melody out of this malady.

Despite hearing the ramblings of the stranger, Stryx did not heed them. Her only priority was to keep them alive and she would do everything within her power to do that - which meant sending Sugar Glider away to fetch things. There wasn't much along the riverside that would be useful right now; the water would be good to clean the wound, but that wasn't ideal right now. What Stryx needed was a method to force clotting.

It was better to get things moving anyway, Stryx thought. Sugar dropped a plethora of things by her, and with a motion she instructed them to swap places. That way someone always held pressure to the patient's neck while Stryx went through the plants and figured out what was useful and what wasn't. Thankfully most of what Sugar had brought was good - whoever taught her the basics really knew their stuff - but there was no time to commend her for her lessons. Stryx reorganized the bundle quickly, and then grabbed for chunks of moss and grass, shoving them against the wound.

Hold those, she instructed. She grabbed another chunk of moss and moved off from where the patient lay prone, to the river, where she dipped her snout and the moss in to the water. Squeezing it softly helped the moss gather the clear water and she returned to essentially mop the blood away from around the wound. Once the taste of blood was stronger than water, Stryx tossed the moss aside. Okay, time to look at what we're dealing with.

It looked like a pretty serious bite wound to the neck. Luck was on the patient's side: the wound was deep and nasty but considering they could still talk for a span of time before passing out, that told Stryx that blood was still flowing as it should have been. The tearing had been through muscle, not vein. They'll be sore for a while but if we can clean this up, their chances will improve. The wound needs to clot - so hold pressure there as long as you can. If you get tired, tell me. We'll swap.

"Hold those," her counterpart commanded. Sugar didn't need to be told twice. She didn't verbally acknowledge the instruction, simply heeding it. She didn't budge when Stryx left, nor when she returned a short white later, at least not until she spoke again. Gently, the yearling released the pressure and inched backward.

Stryx assessed what appeared to be a bite wound to the woman's (Praimfaya's!) neck. She declared a prognosis and Sugar nodded, reapplying pressure. She had carried a pup for days on end without complaint, so Sugar could easily sit here and hold the moss to the wound until it stopped bleeding. She wouldn't mind cleaning it once the flow ebbed some, either.

"I'll be fine," she assured, though she did shift her weight and reposition herself in preparation to hold still and wait a while. "What are the chances?" she breathed. "Not just of running into you again and teaming up, I mean. But I've been looking for her, on behalf of a friend."

Stryx sank back to her haunches while she waited, watching as Sugar did as instructed. She had a tenacity to her, thought the physician - a good quality for a healer. Stryx could not idle for long before she got back to her paws, sorting and resorting the herbs and things, plotting out what to do with them and at what time.

As the other woman began to speak, Stryx turned a distracted ear towards the voice. She'd missed the ramblings of the patient but thankfully Sugar had caught it, and even appeared to know the individual, and explained they had been hunting for her. Curious.

Well, you found her... Stryx murmurs offhandedly, clearly distracted by her task. When the plants were sorted for a final time she stopped and sank back again, sitting, looking around. A bleeding forest... parroted the woman, wondering what that had meant. The only blood she saw came from the wounded patient and trailed behind her, towards the west, for the most part. Stryx remembered visiting a forest there to bury Raleska's lost children - a memory that made her frown.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and began to recite something under her breath; most of which was too quiet to be heard, but the occasional bit of Latin could be caught:

Magister medicus, me supplicanti parce...
in requiem tuam industria sanitatem...
mihi patientes estote..
ad fortitudinem.

It almost sounded like a prayer. Once concluded, Stryx dipped towards one of the smaller piles of medical supplies and grasped a tiny bouquet, most of which was too withered to be useful, and after choosing a direction, tossed them in to the wind which scattered them.

Stryx seemed distracted. Sugar hardly blamed her. Her attention shifted back to Praimfaya, who seemed rather out of it at the moment. That was probably for the best, if a little worrisome. She would likely feel a lot of pain when she woke, though maybe they would be able to help with that.

Her black eyes flicked upward again when Stryx began murmuring in a foreign language and scattering what looked like withered petals. Sugar cocked her head at this, though she said nothing. Her gaze became unfocused as she stared into the distance, wondering what Opalia would make of it when Sugar told her.

"I think she belongs with Moonspear," the yearling commented, glancing down at the patient's face to see if there was any sign of regaining consciousness before looking up at Stryx. "Although I'm not actually sure," Sugar added, brow furrowing. She supposed they would find out about that, among other things (like who'd done this to her? And why?), once Praimfaya roused.

Once the wind had dispersed her prayer - which is the closest thing to what one might term her little mantra - she turned back to the patient and had a serious expression on her face. Grim and concerned, but also very focused. Sugar mentioned a place she'd not heard of and she tucked that information away for future use; if their efforts were not sufficient then someone would need to tell this woman's family of her death. Hopefully it would not come to that.

I don't know this area, she explained with a sigh, finding that her chosen vocation and lifestyle sometimes got in the way of things. Let's worry about that later, though. We should keep a vigil going for the next few hours and make sure she wakes up before we do anything. With the amount of blood lost it might take a few hours, but at max maybe she'd awaken the next morning. It was hard to tell with cases like this.

At least that meant Stryx could investigate the rest of the wounds, which is what she decided to focus on while Sugar kept pressure on the neck. There were tears all over the woman's face, focused around one of her eyes, and Stryx tried to clean the surface off as best she could and get a better look. It did not appear as thought he eye was punctured and that was a very positive sign.

Whoever did this was trying to kill her - praise askleipeias we found her first. That grim expression deepend across Stryx's face as she mentioned this. Neither of the medics were equipped to fight if the perpetrator was nearby, which made Stryx very nervous. Is there anywhere we can try to transport her, do you think...?

Sugar nodded when Stryx pointed out that they would have to wait for her to wake up before they moved her. All that mattered right now was tending to her wound and making sure they kept her safe. Whoever had done this to her might still be nearby, a thought which made the darkened fur along her spine prickle warily. Hopefully the presence of two other wolves would deter any further attempts on Praimfaya's life.

The more experienced medic moved in closer again to inspect the rest of their patient's wounds. Sugar stayed quiet, occasionally sweeping their surroundings for signs of other wolves. As she ascertained their whereabouts, it dawned on her that they weren't far from the Empress's pack. She forgot the name at the moment, though her lips pursed thoughtfully. Could one of them have done this to Praimfaya? Whoever the culprit, had she done something to provoke the attack?

When Stryx seemed to change her tune about moving Praimfaya after all, her attention snapped back to her with surprise, at first, then mutual understanding. "There's the keep, that way," Sugar said, motioning toward the short bluff almost due south of their current position. It was sparsely treed, though they could surely find cover in the mountain's shadow. "I'm not sure how we could carry her safely though," she admitted in the next breath. Praimfaya wasn't an enormous wolf, though certainly sizable and currently a dead weight. "Think we could try to wake her, at least a little bit?"

praimfaya stirs awake though whether its cause is the ministrations the women use upon her wounds to clean and stop the bleeding or the incoherent lull of their voices, or perhaps some regained strength she isn't sure. at first, everything's a blur. she blinks. again and again, relieved to know she can see out of both her eyes even if one is blurry with mucus in an attempt to clean the blood from it. she shifts, mouth feeling cottony for a moment. she is awake and attentive and more than willing to do whatever her healers bid of her.

Many things are running through her mind while Sugar is speaking, but she hears her. Stryx is busy thinking about the best course of action and she isn't certain - they could leave the patient here and tend to them, press more mulched greenery in to the wound and hope for the best, or take her to shelter. Moving her would be a struggle for the two of them. There is no telling if there is further damage to the side of her body Stryx cannot see. Her initial examination had been quick and purposeful, assessing the worst damage as immediately as possible, and together they've done a good job to curtail the bleeding. Now that there was a pause Stryx was certain of only one thing: this woman would have died if these medics had not come upon her.

-carry her safely though, Sugar's voice rises over the white-noise of Stryx's thoughts and permeates it. Think we could try to wake her, at least a little bit?

It sounded... painful. Stryx had never lost as much blood as she was seeing strewn about the grass, but she had been taught of the dangers of such a loss, and she did not like the idea of waking the patient unless it was necessary. Moving her to somewhere more secure was, to some degree, necessary - but even before Stryx could answer, the woman's body shifted. Her eyes seemed to flutter. Her mouth hinges, though she is silent. Disorientation is evident.

Stryx chuffs softly and murmurs by Praimfaya's ear, Can you hear me? We are going to move you out of the dirt, okay? Her eyes dart to Sugar and back again, a little bit frazzled herself, and after a deep breath she draws up alongside Praimfaya's nearest side as a buffer, ready to catch her if she tried to stand. I've got you on this side - Sugar will take the other. We'll go slowly, okay? The last thing any of them needed was a fall to dishevel the compress from Praim's neck.

Lots of power-play, plus pushing this toward a conclusion—lemme know if y'all mind! :)

As if cued, their patient began to struggle awake. They flocked to her, Stryx on one side and Sugar on the other. The latter did not speak, instead trying to look into the woman's eyes for a moment to check her pupils before quickly assessing her wounds. They needed to move quickly if they wanted to take advantage of her consciousness and get her somewhere safer without compromising her injuries.

It took what felt like ages, though the pair of medics managed to gently guide Praimfaya into a more sheltered area just below Gyrfalcon's Keep. When she more or less collapsed at their feet, Sugar hastily gathered up leaves and other debris to cushion her makeshift bed, knowing that Stryx would surely be attentive to her wounds after their arduous trek.

When they were more or less situated, Sugar's thoughts drifted to her recent stop at Moonspear before she shook away those thoughts. There would be time to contemplate the details later but first things first. "Should one of us rest beside her, keep her warm, while the other keeps watch?" she asked of Stryx.

i'm going to go ahead & conclude + wrap up with this post so it can be used for trades!

their progression is slow and her heart pounds in her ears like a war drum. to distract herself from it, from the pain that radiates from her shoulders, from her neck with each step she takes, she counts her steps in her head. she is relieved when they eventually reach their destination and she collapses against the makeshift bed sugar glider makes her, fading in and out of consciousness as they two continue to monitor her and tend to her wounds.