The Heartwood the comedy is that it's serious

Trade thread (medic and/or botany), intended for @Holland (surprise!)

Fuck. 

Of all the places to sustain an injury, this place was probably the worst. Lane shuffled forward, holding her front right paw in the air. She glanced around desperately, searching for something that might be helpful-- something that wasn't just ashes and useless, charred debris. 

Lane was trained well. No matter where she was, she could usually locate something useful to use when she got hurt, which was often. Some god somewhere had a sense of humor, to have such an accident-prone wolf born into a family of medics. 

"Fuck!" Lane swore, this time out loud. Her paw was starting to throb intensely.

It was either fuck or ow. Not both at once. It was music to his ears, strangely enough. A chance to assist... was noted. But it was more than that; the other wolf could indirectly give him something useful. Some new way to treat a patient. Some new information... 

So he did not so much as hesitate when he heard the swearing. Holland appeared seemingly out of thin air, having been in the vicinity gathering what he could find. The partly cloudy sky hid him from some of the sun - good thing winter was not very hot. "Are you alright?" he asked the woman, keeping his distance.

He noted her holding her paw up, and squinted at it.

Most of Lane's attention was still on her paw, but she threw a sideways glance at the wolf who seemingly appeared out of thin air. He looked like he belonged here: scarred and half-covered in soot, like everything else in this burnt forest. 

"Not really," Lane replied, voice a little strained. She normally would have enjoyed meeting a new wolf, but right now really wasn't a great time for her. She shuffled to face the man. 

Oh. He wasn't half-covered in soot, that was just... his fur. The marbling in his coat was fascinating, and Lane might have been able to appreciate it more if she didn't have a wooden shard stuck through her paw pad. She held her paw toward the man to show him.

"Stepped on a giant splinter," she said, although anyone who could see the wound would need no explanation. She hadn't pulled the wood piece out yet because she knew it would bleed, and she'd been hoping to find something she could use to staunch the flow.

"Hmm" the man pulled a face at the paw, lifting his good eye to view the other wolf "I can pull it out" he says now. Stopping the blood would be easy - all she had to do was keep licking the wound. It would also calm her nerves. "it will bleed" he also says "but not as much as you think."

For blood was just water. Bleeding cleaned wounds as well. So it was a good instinct for the body to have. "I... am a medic" he explains with a bowed head, staring at the splinter "my name is Holland, from Firefly Glen." But he didn't expect her to trust him just by this alone. If she was wary, he understood.

It would bleed, but not as much as she thought?

Lane blinked. She looked back down at her paw. Nah, that shit was going to bleed. Just look at the size of that shard! It would also hurt for a while, Lane had no doubt.

The man was a medic. Her lucky day. The way he drew out the statement was odd though... like he was either building up to it or he was unsure. Holland was from Firefly Glen, which surprised Lane. Toad Amelia had told her that most everyone in the Glen was a yearling, and Holland most certainly wasn't. 

"Lane," she gave her name. "Yeah, we can pull it out if you don't mind." Lane probably could have gotten it herself, but Holland would be able to get a better angle on it. 

Lane let out a long sigh. She was out here on her own, barely scraping through each day as it was. It wasn't like she could lay around for a few days and recover. There was a high chance she would delay the healing process walking around on it, and it would possibly even get infected.

"Know of anything around here to help with infection? Anything that isn't burned up?" Lane glanced around, brow knitting in concern.

Holland settled beside her, having been given consult to work. He quietly glanced at the shard before answering her questions. If he was to pull it out, he wouldn't be able to talk for awhile. Best let her ask what she wanted.

"To be honest, all you need to do to keep it clean is wash it regularly" he could give her herbs, but they were precious to the Glen. And he wasn't sure what grew around here in the cold months. "make sure your mouth is clean and keep licking the wound."

He paused, just in case that wasn't enough. "If infection does set in, go to Firefly Glen. I will help then; just be on the border and call me" Holland wasn't wasting herbs on 'what ifs'. But in case that wasn't enough, he lifted his red eye to Lane. "but wild garlic does help - if you can find it."

He'd figure out what to do after he pulled the splinter out. Bending his neck, he uttered one final thing; "Are you ready?"

Melaine simply stared. His plan was to pull out the shard and then just.. leave her here with an actively bleeding puncture wound? Really?

Lane's parents would have crushed marigold and chervil root into a poultice, applied it to the wound, and then wrapped the paw in cobwebs. They would have either stayed close to monitor the patient or otherwise ensured that the patient was safe and looked after. 

But that was why the Vitales were the best, Lane supposed. That was why packs paid their lofty fees, and lone wolves traveled for miles seeking them out. Granted, Holland wasn't working with much here. It wasn't like he could magic marigold out of thin air. It was just that leaving a patient laying all alone, in a burned-down forest, in the middle of winter, furiously licking her open wound seemed a little.. cold. 

He told her that wild garlic would help, and Lane dropped her gaze wearily. Rubbing it in garlic would help for a superficial scrape, sure, but a puncture like this? Nuh-uh. It needed to be wrapped. If Holland couldn't help, she'd figure out a way to do it herself. 

"Just do it," she sighed out, discouraged. She braced herself and waited.

He wanted to help. If he didn't want to help he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have asked. He saw her discouragement, her lack of faith. The man grumbled inwardly, refusing to let her see his own discouragement. No, he couldn't pull herbs from the cold. All his precious resources were at the Glen.

And he didn't know, nobody did, how bad the open wound would be until he pulled out the splinter. Garlic helped stave infection off - that is what she asked. If she wanted to do it herself later, then she could. "Fine" he settled more readily, lowering his head and kept the venom from his tone.

Gripping the thorn in his teeth, he yanked. Blood poured from the wound almost immediately. At least that was clear. But he did take the bloody splinter and spit it away. Later he'd dig a hole for it, so no other wolf could be hurt. But the pain must be hard for Lane, so he instructed her now.

"Lick it" it would help calm her down, the shock would wear off eventually. But if she thought he'd leave her be, she was wrong. He sat there, his singular eye focusing on the bloody paw. He felt like a failure without his tools.

He wrenched the shard from her paw, in a motion that Lane would have to begrudgingly admit was much more quick and fluid than she would have managed on her own. Lane gasped from the pain, reflexively jerking her paw away from the medic. Blood spattered against the charred soil. Lane cradled her injured paw against her body. 

"Lick it." 

He didn't have to tell her twice. Lane was already at work, licking the injury as tears leaked from her eyes. It stung, damn it! Lane's mouth filled with a biting metallic tang, and she coughed. She spat the blood out onto the ground, because it was either that or choke. She didn't care one tiny bit that she was being gross.

He gave a curt nod, seeing her work her tongue against the bloody paw. Holland, perhaps because he felt bad, scooted a bit closer. Enough so that if she needed him to be there, she could press against his fur. He was never one for physical therapy, but she looked so small and scared of bleeding out...

It was the least he could do for her. He also didn't care she was being 'gross'. Blood was a fact of life. If he didn't seek his trade, he still wouldn't avoid it. "Slow and steady licks" he soothed Lane "when you feel you can, extend the paw so I can see it again..." He would then assess it once again.

After the initial gush, the bleeded slowed to a steady trickle. Lane held her paw out to the man when he asked, although somewhat reluctantly. A few drops of blood fell into the snow as she did so. 

With the bleeding subsiding, Lane's panic ebbed away. Holland seemed to have warmed a little, so she chanced a request. "I'd still like to wrap it, if you have the time... There might be some cobwebs nearby?" Doubtful these wood would produce much else of value.

If he knew her personally, he would have gently gripped her paw in his teeth. He would have bit down a bit on the veins to see if they would gush again. He did not know her though. It would be too awkward to do. But she did as he asked, earning a look of gratefulness from the man.

"There is not much here" he agrees to her mind without knowing it "and I would not want you to walk far on such an injury. Let me gather what I can. I'll be back." Yet he did not get up, waiting for her permission. He knew some wolves did not like to be left alone.

They were scared of the blood attracting predators. "But you can do something for me while you wait" Holland went on "press your paw into the snow to wash the blood off. Then it will be clean while I wrap it."

Going to write an exit, since Holland is inactive.

"Thanks," Lane said, mirroring the medic's look of gratitude. They seemed to be getting along better now, probably because Lane had her wits about her once more. 

Lane nodded, burying her paw in the snow as Holland disappeared into the trees.

Maximally efficient by nature's design, very little heat escapes a wolf's pelt. But while the snow didn't melt as nicely as one would hope it would for cleaning purposes, the cold did produce a relieving, numbing effect. It also constricted the vessels, slowing Lane's bleeding and aiding in clotting. 

Shit, maybe Holland was right. Maybe the wound wouldn't require wrapping after all. Ugh, wasn't she going to feel like a dumbass, if the bleeding had already stopped on its own by the time Holland got back with the dressings.

Melaine's embarassment and anxiety mounted as the lonely moments dragged on. Her paw had stopped bleeding, and now she felt like an idiot for panicking to Holland. After a final glance around, she slipped quietly away into the charred underbrush.