Hushed Willows i am infinity

set way back to the beginning of october. trying to help heal @Reverie

The man named @Boone had led her from her home—trepidation had wrest upon her features, but she attempted to mask such a thing—he was distraught enough, he needn’t worry about how she was now concerned for her four little ones that she was leaving behind.

Instead, she focused on quietly preparing herself for what was to come—but when they had come to the willow trees—a land she was sorely familiar with, though she spoke nothing of this for now—she set to quiet work.

She would request Boone to provide his wife with water, in whatever way possible—he would know the lay of the lands far more. She would smooth the fur from the girls brow with a gentle paw, whispering hushed words of encouragement as she worked.

The wounds upon Reverie’s flanks were the least to worry of, though they would likely scar, if not hurt in the cooler months. A harsh reminder, always, of what had happened to her.

She worked quietly—dotingly, even—in hopes that when the woman truly roused, her pain would be lessened. Herbs and leaves acted as a poultice and bandage to her rear—but it was the broken bones that concerned her most.

When the sun began to rise, Meadow sat quietly next to her watch—looking over her patient, the smallest hint of a frown upon her gentle features. This would be a hard winter on the youthful woman—of that, she was certain.

Consciousness washed over her in erratic spurts, brief moments in which her senses provided snippets of information. The scents, most of all, were what reached her; her husband, and a woman she did not know. Reverie was scarcely responsive to her ministrations. An occasional whine, a weak flinch here and there.

It was when the sun rose that Reverie regained full consciousness, and she did so with a start and a little shriek. That man — the cat —

But they were not here; only the lingering scents of them on her coat and the wounds she bore indicated that they had ever been real.

Who - Reverie coughed, her throat painfully dry; she had not been able to take much water before, not while she was barely conscious. She started to cry, but she started to regain her bearings, too. Her eyes focused more fully on the woman, a striking stranger in autumnal gold and red. You - you helped me, Not so much a question as a realization spoken aloud; her eyes softened, though the tears still flowed. Thank you.

Her eyes found her leg next. She felt her heart in her throat, tightening. My leg - I - I'll never dance again. Reverie looked up at the woman again. I fell. There was - there was a cat, chasing me... Grief rose hot and stinging in her throat, and she choked back a sob with her last words.

I'll never dance again.

The quiet was disturbing to the fresh mother—with four children she spent most of her time with, it was a stark reminder how far from her babes she was, and she found it put her at unease.

When the sharp shriek erupted, though—it all but jumped Meadow’s heart into her throat, and she gasped, jolting herself, back, ears flattening, eyes widening as a tremor coursed her. Her brain caught up to what had happened—and instantly she pressed forward, eyes softening as she lifted a paw to soothe—to gently caress the girl’s brow, as if she could comfort the pain and shock from her. 'You helped me.'

“I’m trying to,” she whispered softly, trying to keep the noise at a lower level.

The grief was clear upon the girl’s face—the shock. Regret.

Meadow knew the sharp burn of a cat’s claws. The guilt that pulled at her own facade was from the burning memory of the moments prior to her own cat attack—the heat of @Germanicus’s mouth upon her.

How had @Reyson ever forgiven her?

“You’re badly hurt… I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Unlike Meadow, this girl probably had not deserved it.

She would only spend another couple of days with the woman, and prior to leaving, gave the man Boone detailed instruction on ways to assist his wife before she allowed herself go return home to her own family.