The Heartwood i'm not a complete wretch, i fetch

The wound wasn't getting any better.

The wolf ignored it as much as he could. There were other concerns that kept him on the move; he needed to eat a decent meal but he was also paranoid as he meandered through the woods, certain that he was being followed or that someone might erupt from the foliage to strike him down again; maybe the giant woman, maybe one of the men from the plains.

It had not gone unnoticed to Drusk that the pale woman from the plains had not moved to his defense (neither did he expect her to, they were strangers to one-another), and more importantly that those men had come on her command. She was someone to be cautious of—and the number of bodies heralded a potential settlement worth investigating.

For now though, Drusk needed to keep a low profile for long enough to track down a meal.

Garlic would be great. Maybe Turmeric? And a little purple coneflower…

Bridget ran through an inventory silently as she nosed along, wending a path through the wood. She might have more luck if she had gone towards the meadows, but she wanted to give the flowers that way a bit more time to bloom. The forest was more likely to have some of the plants that would grow earlier and survive some of the early spring frosts. So probably not coneflower…

She’d already found a few useful plants and taken note of them, resolving to retrieve them on her way back.

Her ears pricked when she heard the sounds of someone else nearby, barely audible. Whoever it was seemed to be keeping a low profile, and with the wind against her, she couldn’t catch a scent. Immediately curious, Bridget considered calling out a greeting, but hesitated. If he was hunting she’d scare off any potential prey by doing that, and she’d been carelessly loud already just walking through here.

The sound of intermittent movement drew some interest from the wolf. He was glad for the distraction. It was irregular enough to not sound predatory, and as he listened he counted what he perceived to be steps; at, akat, sen... A pause? No tor?

The wolf began to slink, at least to lurk, with his head nearer the earth and eyes creeping to every sunny patch that spread among the gaps. There were scents here of various prey animals—but there was also a wolf scent, and internally Drusk warred between hunger, self-preservation, and curiosity.

As he got closer, he noticed the sounds of movement had eased. At the very least the creature he tracked was very slow, which did bode well for his hunger, but he would also pause to listen more intently when those sounds vanished and felt a growing dread that there was some trick underway.

The scent of wolf was stronger now.

Hmm. Bridget listened, but she couldn’t hear whoever it was any longer. They must have taken off. It didn’t occur to her to notice that she hadn’t exactly heard that either. With a small shrug she continued to nose around the nearby trees.

Jackpot! Ginger! Bridget grinned and began digging at the roots, hoping to pull up the entire plant. She wasn’t much of a gardener, but some plants she could just leave to their own devices and they’d stick around. If she was luck, she’d have enough fresh to keep her through the summer and still dry once autumn came. Set to digging, there was no way she would notice his approach so long as he remained silent.

The sounds resumed, and so did the sound of his own movement in pursuit. He was growing more cautious as he gained upon the shape—because now he could see something, and still the scent of wolf dominated. Drusk slowed, watching; he did not see anything of great concern and so he resumed his hunt. It went this way, with stops and starts, until he smelled freshly tilled dirt and the sharp scent of some spicy, lemony herb.

It was strong, whatever it was; and soon it rivaled the strength of wolf scent, enough to make his desire to hunt evaporate and a stronger sense of danger creep down his spine. He took one last deep breath and turned his head, trying to get a look at whoever else was here—only, the ginger in the air burned at his nostrils and made him sneeze several times.

The stranger was nearby but he couldn't see her for all the gloss in his vision, after.

The sneezing came out of nowhere.

Holy fuck!! Bridget jumped at the sound and spun awkwardly. She was lucky in the direction she turned, because if he’d been the other way, she’d likely have sent herself sideways by stepping her good leg into the hole she’d dug.

I don’t know who you are, but you about scared the shit outta me. How about we get a good laugh over how ridiculous that is? And introduce ourselves. She called it out casually, with a friendly warmth to the words despite her caution. A sneeze definitely wasn’t a threat, but that didn’t mean whoever was behind it was harmless.

He sucked in a breath and with it, phlegm, which he swallowed, and that came with an aggressively wet sound. Poignant. The best introduction.

The creature he had thought was prey was very obviously not, as she spun and made her noises, and Drusk gave a huff with the intention to pull away from her periphery and leave her there; he had wasted plenty of time thinking this was something edible, only to find a wolf — but he was intrigued as well, given the tone of her voice and when he got a good look, he saw she was ... injured?

Ah, that was the tempo he heard and had been following.

Although he kept his distance, he reached his head up and emphatically smelled the air as if to show his curiosity; but he wasn't sure about approaching no matter how welcoming her tone.

It was another wolf, though he didn’t seem too keen on socializing. Bridget wasn’t offended and would have happily let him ignore her and move on if she hadn’t spotted the injuries stretched across his hips.

Oh, hey. Those don’t look too good. I can help, if you want. She took a step towards him, gesturing obviously at the wounds as she spoke, but didn’t go any further. The shift to friendly professionalism was abrupt, but she wouldn’t treat him if he declined her help. She never pressed her services on the unwilling unless things were so dire that she had no choice.

Drusk tensed when she moved, but he was not as flighty before someone so obviously impaired, and when she motioned towards his wounds he tried to pivot away from her; and he winced, making it obvious his injury really wasn't great.

He didn't want to let anyone too close in case they took advantage. He rumbled a small warning but as he did, his hip sank down and he was abruptly sitting and then panting, disoriented.

The heat of the flesh there was growing, and the onset of fever had been gradual, although it settled in to him now.

Ah. Bridget could tell that the wound pained him more than he wanted to admit, and between that and his guarded pose it wasn’t hard to see he thought she was a threat. She’d encountered the odd stranger, here and there, that didn’t speak. Whether it was a choice or not was irrelevant - she was going to get what she was going to get.

It’s alright. I only want to help, if you’ll let me. It didn’t look good and he would at least need something to take care of the infection she saw setting in. Bridget lowered her posture and allowed herself to relax, approaching slowly and carefully. She didn’t meet his eye but was ready, if he tried to lash out.

At a certain point she’d be too close to really avoid any attack he dealt, but she had to trust that if she was going to help. The only thing she could really do to convince him was offer as little threat as possible.

While he wanted to protect himself, he could not keep his attention on the golden woman for very long before his gaze slipped; either his eyelids drooped or his head tipped down, maybe listing to one side, before he caught himself and remembered to watch her.

What harm could something with three legs do? If she did anything he was confident he could react fast enough — and maybe she could do something useful for him. He decided not to move, but with the surly disposition of someone who doesn't want to admit to being in need, Drusk ducks his head more purposefully and slicks his ears back.

He turns his muzzle away, as if to show physically that he will not do harm should she come closer.

Her concern sharpened as she watched his attention slide and list unsteadily. Still, it was better to wait for permission, and after a few moments she got something close enough. So long as she wouldn’t be bitten for approaching.

Bridget moved closer, making sure to keep as non-threatening as physically possible. Her focus was already professionally set on the wounds she could see, the worst of which she inspected first. I’m going to clean this. It might sting. She didn’t know if he would understand, but she had a habit of talking the steps through.

She would try to take as much care as she could, but clearing the infection out was her priority. This meant removing the dirt that had settled into the wounds as well. She was methodical, sitting near and placing a paw lightly on his back while she worked. It was for steadying and to indicate when she was finished, though she wouldn’t prevent him from moving if he needed to. Bridget wouldn’t be surprised if his stamina had about reached its limit.