Blackfeather Woods and what price will you pay?

He sunk lower, needing the ground to support him.
He was getting worse. Rowan held himself to his spot, waiting for acceptance rather than rushing in and getting himself into the same state.
Rowan shrugged, "No, I don't want anything. What could you possibly give me?" It wasn't about that really, it was about how he needed this help, and was mostly given it. But knowing he'd have to run at a seconds notice always kept him on edge in Rusalka.

The yearling offered him a tight smile. And when Reyes sat up, Rowan drifted closer to see what he could smell on the wound. He didn't get within three paces because of Redhawk.
"I thought I could smell them on you. Bitchhawk is perfect."
He fucking knew that Eljay was a front. Some innocent-looking, babbling bumblebee to hide the stinger. It suited that the stinger was on the ass. Fucking Towhee.
"Bastards," he muttered flatly. He didn't want to feel hate towards them, but it was pretty fucking hard with evidence of their brutality stacking up against them. Especially on his doorstep.
The Blackfeather sighed, smoothing the fur that has slightly raised along his back.

Back to the task at hand.
"May I look?" The mud covering was hiding the true extent of the wound, and was likely the cause of infection. He knew wounds were covered to stop dirt from getting in the wound.