You Call That Stalking? (Enigma)

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***Note: Normal posts WILL NOT be this long! I don't have the mental energy for it! This on is only this long because it is her introduction the the new Enigma!


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A she-wolf sprinted through the trees, swift as a squirrel, and twice as agile. Wind ruffled her ebony fur, the sun filtering down through the branches producing light and dark splotches along her back. Her ears flicked as a spruce bough clipped her tail. Bothersome. Her pads made soft thuds as they pounded the ground. Her eyes, the left crimson, the right bright yellow, blinked as snow flurried around her head. Where was she going? Who knows? Why was she running? I couldn't tell you. What I can tell you is her name.

Terralee. What do you mean, "What?" It's her name. She is Terralee, a two year old fae on a mission in life. What' s this mission, you ask? Why, to find a family, of course! Her entire life's work has been to find a family with which she can be strong. A Family to complete her. She has none, you see. Terralee's parents died long ago, trying to protect her from a bear.

How does she find the strength to go on? Simple. She loves life far too much not to. She loves the cool breeze, the birds, the trees, running, playing and swimming. Her favorite terrain, in fact, would have to be water. In this respect, she is like a vole, or a beaver, or maybe even an otter. Yes, an otter. Like an otter, she loves water. How very poetic...

But, I digress. I'm sure that you would like to hear her story...

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"Damn it, Maari!" An angry bark filled the air in the meadow. Forgive me, Terra! I could not resist! giggled the large otter as it rolled on the ground behind the wolfess. The wolf was fuming, her bi-colored eyes buring. "Qué en el nombre de Dios possessed you do that?" she growled, sullen. She watched as the rabbit's bobbing tail finally disappeared. Stupid otter...

~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer
I heard that! the otter fae growled back, scratching at the ground. They glared each other down for a moment, then lunged. They were all over eachother, nipping, butting, cuffing, each yelping and barking. It was quite an odd sight.



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
Eventually, though, the two seperated, each with a heaving chest and ruffled fur. They glared for a moment longer, both angry, furious. Then disolved into laughter. "Stupid otter!" Terralee managed to squeeze out as she lay on her back in the grass, chukling uncontrolably. Fo- Foolish... Wolf! the otter managed to gasp between outbursts.


~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


First IC post. Plus the Word of the Week to boot! =D


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IC:



 
 



Shixt shixt double shixt.



 
 



Skarl almost never swore, but this is one time he would gladly have used all of the naughty words in his rather-limited vocabulary to express his feelings. And for once, said feelings almost overwhelmed him and momentarily shocked himself with the intensity of it.



 
 



Cursed stag he had been chasing had just stabbed him in the belly with its antlers and almost trampled him to death.



 
 



Skarldemarsh, loner and fluorescent light of North America, was lying on the ground bleeding his life out. Crimson fluid spattered his pelt and soaked the earth beneath him, an extra pulse of blood gushing out every now and then. His pelage was now soaked by the hot wetness. The male grunted with pain and anger as he heaved himself over so that the blood ceased to pour down his flank in slow meanders, but more of in a small waterfall. Every breath he took brought on a half-spasm that made the red liquid gurgle out faster -- it was probably in accordance with his pulse, anyway.



 
 



He couldn't believe his stupidity. What made him decide to run down the largest stag in the herd? On an impulse, like that. Skarldemarsh had never done that before. Why, why? What was the cause of this irrationality? Was it the change in the landscape that led him to thinking that the prey here was any easier to tackle than back then? Was it because of his three-day fasting, during which he failed to capture any prey? Was it because of that hare he snapped up three days ago? Was it --



 
 



Wait a moment. He was supposed to be worried, desperate, or even perhaps praying for deliverance, not methodically assessing the reasons of this erring on his part. Skarl made a confused growl, then dismissed this alien thought of death. To be truthful, he had never considered the possibility that one day, he was to die. He hadn't even so much as imagined that it could happen to him. Sure, he had come within inches of death itself, but he had never turned this prospect over and over in his head, as he did now.



 
 



"Shixt-cursed wolf you are, Skarldemarsh. You should have thought. Those brains up there are not just to fill up the empty space. They're meant to help you choose."



 
 



The he-wolf snarled at himself, in a reprimanding tone. Well, too late: his vision was going blurry around the edges, and a red tint was discolouring his view. Perhaps this was what a wolf felt when he was about to succumb to death's icy grip, but Skarl wouldn't give up that easily. He was a fighter, not a follower -- and never will be one. Cursing the sky green under his breath, the lupine struggled to heave himself onto his paws again. Now where was the accursed Scythe when he needed him?



 
 



Said bald eagle was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it meant that he wasn't going to die, and thus Scythe couldn't be bothered to come, but Skarl was not a believer in miracles. More likely than not, his Spirit Animal had impaled himself upon a jagged spire of rock somewhere (Skarl hoped so wickedly); they had never seen eye-to-eye before, not much, and perhaps the bird was better off away from Skarl.



 
 



Still struggling to get up, the wolf's ears caught foreign sounds. A curious grunt escaped him, and he fell back. Nobody... The wind? Or a disruption to his senses that came before he was to die? The blood was pumping out at an alarming rate now, after his exertion, and Skarl was mildly worried over the fact that he might very well die sooner than later. Ears aswivel, he waited for more sounds -- and caught the faint laughter of a wolven cousin.



 
 



Not a good thing. Only a thaumaturgy could make him willingly approach -- or get approached by -- another wolf, particularly if said another wolf is a pack-runner. Even if s/he was a loner, Skarl's not the trusting type; furthermore, he was near death. He was a proud wolf, and he didn't want anyone, anyone, to see him half-dead and (possibly) whimpering on his last breath. If I were to die, so be it, and make it fast, he thought.



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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.



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Loner


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Nice! I wasn't sure anyone was going to be able to work that one in, but I thought it was such a neat word. 
It was mid spring by now. The vast blooming and birthing of early spring had ceased and the world was in its adolescent stage. Calypsis was enjoying a leisurely walk through one of the section of the meadow with taller grasses and weeds. The long, flexible stalks swayed rhythmically in the breezes that passed by every now and again. The grasses tickled at the sides of the wolf intruding on their territory. She stuck out like a sore thumb in a see of dark and light greens. The wolf, peppered with every color, the majority of which were bright purples and pinkish reds, was certainly not a grand example of being "incognito"; then again, she wasn't on any particular mission at the moment, and so, no such camouflage was required. 
A sizable herd of deer grazed a fair ways off in a shorter section of grass and they were not unaware of their company, no matter how far off she was. The herd held their heads high, ears alert, watching , listening, smelling. With their eyes wide with concern, they began to move off, putting even more distance between themselves and the wolf. The wolf, slightly unnerved at the display stopped. She was far away. Much to far from the deer to be any sort of threat. Her head cocked only slightly to the right as she pondered the thought, her nose in the air, scenting for anything unusual, or out of place. Nothing. Really nothing. No breeze. No breeze, equals no scent, for the moment at least. 
Almost as quickly as she stopped, she could feel the tiny claws of her counterpart tickling her haunches. A chipmunk appeared out of the pinkish fur and raised his head. What is it Phi? Phi. A pet name the male had for his charge. The wolf, multitudes the size of her guardian, craned her head around towards her rump, addressing the creature. "It's the deer. They moved off, but look, look how far we are from them. They should know we are no threat to them. It's unusual. They seem extra skittish." Be realistic Calypsis, they are prey to you. Their lives depend on your actions. Perhaps they just don't want to take the chance. Also, you must remember it is spring, they have young. Don't let it worry you. She slowly began her walk again, her thoughts still tugging at her. "Still...I still think it's odd." 
Discontentedly, she brushed the circumstance from her mind. Aison was probably right, maybe they had just recently lost a fawn. It was possible. That had to be it. Still, she could not help but wander back to the thought. The lady shook her head, the fur around her neck shaking to and fro as well. In an attempt to push the idea from her mind, she happily threw her nose into the air. Se breathed deeply, taking in the scents of all the things around her. A gust of wind had brought her a bouquet of aromas. But one did not belong. Her fluid movement stopped short. It smelled of blood. But it smelled of wolf blood... 
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"Maari! Shush!" the ebony female urged suddenly as she sat up, her snout held up in the air. She thought that she'd heard words. Growls perhaps. What do you hear? the otter questioned intently, all sings of joviality extinguished. "Blood..." she mumbled to herself as she finished sniffing, ignoring the black otter beside her as she scrambled to her feelt.

~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer
What kind of blood? her guide asked. Was it prey? She was hungry...



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
Terra was already on her feet, padding swiftly towards the origin of the sickly-sweet scent. "Wolf." Terralee called back to the otter, who thumbed her rudder on the ground once before ambling off as quickly as she could after her charge. Hurry then! the small female urged. Terralee wasn't a Shaman, or a healer, but she'd try to help if she could...


~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


Lawl, give me any word and I can work it into a post. [/boasting]

 
 

Question: Are Spirit Animals capable of living on if their "wolf-partner" died?


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



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FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



Now where did that Scythe fly to?



 
 



The multicoloured male had started wishing fervently that his spiritual guide was to appear, despite his previous stoic thoughts, some two minutes ago. Part of him had protested against this wishful thinking, declaring that it was better to die alone than to be seen -- and possibly mocked at -- by another, but that part was quickly and effectively vanquished by the fact that his instincts clung onto life like leeches to flesh. ((And because his thoughts were draining away rather fast. Thinking, now, was like struggling through treacle. Thick, cloying, sickly-sweet treacle that resembled his own blood -- or was it in fact his own blood?))



 
 



If a particularly empathic creature had been around, and by empathic, I meant psychic, its spiritual force might have stumbled into the maze-like swamp that was Skarl's mind and never be able to return. Such was the state of his mental constitution: muddled, blurred, and no longer as arrogant as he would have liked to think. Quite an impact would the prospect of death have on a wolf, one might conclude musingly.



 
 



Skarldemarsh was still mildly shocked at this turn of events. One part of him had still refused to believe that he was really about to depart, but that part had been stamped out even earlier than his proud alter-ego. A transition from disbelieving mortal to dignified being to indignant-and-necrophobic creature had taken place in a mere ten-or-so minutes; it is really quite a psychological phenomenon. The loner, had he not been weak and deprived of oxygen/blood/fundamental essences, would have agreed as well.



 
 



A flapping sound, unnecessarily loud and uncalled for, jolted the wolf and his author out of their reverences. Lifting his blood-tinted gaze ((had he mentioned that h was almost trampled on by a stag, but ended up only suffering a minor, but still shockingly bloody, scalp wound?)) to meet with a sharp, scrying one, he saw that Scythe, his long-time friend/nemesis, had arrived.



 
 



The bald eagle wasn't in as sorry a state as his wolf-partner. Feathers freshly preened, unruffled by flight ((he was mainly soaring on stable drafts)), beady golden eyes aglitter, he was the very image of dignity and vigilance. Unfortunately for Skarl, the avian had on him a sharp tongue as well.



 
 



"Well, what have we gotten ourselves into? From the state of the matters, I'd judge that you were gorged by no smaller an animal than another wolf. Yet I see that it is not one of your furred-and-toothed cousins who had done this -- the wound is in the wrong shape. If I am not mistaken, you were... stabbed by a herbivorous animal. A piece of prey."



 
 



The he-wolf snarled upwards, searching for retorts and finding none. Mainly due to the fact that much of his cognitive abilities had been lost to him; certainly not because he lacked a resource for said retorts. So settling for a murderous-yet-baleful glare, Skarldemarsh rested his head on his forepaws, which he could barely sense, and waited for Lady Death to approach. With luck, he'd only have to suffer about three or four more of these insulting comments from the bird before his demise arrived.



 
 



But Scythe had other plans. He may have been scathingly blunt, but he still cared for Skarl; very much so, in fact. Without another word, he gazed down at his friend sympathetically before taking off. A rare sight; but sadly Skarl didn't catch that: he was too absorbed in his own future, which was sadly short-lived.



 
 



The eagle cut a wide swathe in the air, wheeling around, checking for possible sources of aid. Barely a few seconds into flight and he'd seen a rainbow-coloured wolf, much like his own friend down there bleeding into the earth ((what a ruin of the beautiful soil!)), but only outfitted with much more vibrant shades. Another wolf soon came into view, but that one wasn't as, well, visually appleasing as the previous wolf. The bald eagle banked hard and zeroed in on the colourful she-wolf. Deciding that he'd try his luck there, Scythe dipped.



 
 



Like an arrow, the bird descended, wings tucked in for optimum speed, only spreading them bare seconds before he touched down. The result of this brilliant display of acrobatics was an eagle suspended three metres or so off the ground, perfectly composed, ending with an arrogant smirk and a wink. Aw, shoot. So what. Scythe liked to show off. But with each second that passed, Skarl was one step closer to death's door. So, without further flourishes as he'd have liked, the bird landed and hopped awkwardly towards the other brilliantly-shaded wolf.



 
 



A she-wolf, he saw. Good. She-animals have a good chance of turning out to be tender and caring, or barb-tongued, or both. Bowing with difficulty, Scythe spoke up, his voice solemn, soft and serious. ((Oh wow, alliteration. He was not amused.))



 
 



"Greetings, miss. I am Scythe, Spirit Guide ((he preferred to address himself as such)) of Skarldemarsh. I, and my partner, require dire assistance from you. Might I add that we would do well to hurry? My partner may not hold out much longer."



 
 



Lovely. He conveyed his message, dropped hints about the urgency, as well as seized the chance to observe this female. Such was the talent of the ((lord of the)) bald eagle, Scythe. With an urgent click of his beak, he took off again, and meanwhile stored away his observations to be studied and annotated later.



 
 

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Loner


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Negative. 
Calypsis was more than a little unnerved to catch the distinct scent of blood drifting through the pristine, picturesque scene of the vast meadow in spring time. All her thoughts of the herd had been thrown from her mind the instant the scent of a relative's blood had entered her nostrils. Quickly, she zeroed in on the odor. Thankfully, a continuous light breeze was making it easy to track. Her whole body went on alert, ready, or at least pretending to be ready for anything she might come upon. The wolf's passenger was immediately aware of the sudden changes. Calypsis's fur was slightly raised, her muscles tensed just so, prepared. The creature made his way along the wolf's spine and up to the crest of her head. What's going on Phi, where are you going? 
This time, the wolf did not turn to address the chipmunk, but simply continued on, speaking to him, but not at him. "There is blood. Wolf blood. Something is wrong." It was not a second after the lady had finished speaking that the pair's ever increasing pace was very suddenly halted by the almost magical appearance of a grand bird, an eagle. The avian appeared directly in front of Calypsis and she had to spot short to avoid running into him completely. Aison was none-to-pleased with the appearance of his own predator and with a surprised chirp, burried himself in the fur on Calypsis's neck. 
Now, any wolf that knew anything about anything knew that spirit animals had a sport of connection to one another and would never physically harm another. Still, old habits die hard, and a chipmunk is not likely to so easily trust a bird of any kind. The bird, on the other hand, seemed to ignore the creature entirely and spoke directly to Calypsis. His words were quick but calm, and he returned to the air almost immediately. Still a little confused about the entire interaction, Calypsis turned her eyes to the sky and caught sight of the bird. He was already on the move. No time to waste now. The wolf regained her pace, breaking into a full speed run now. Her nose brought her the scent of another wolf, but for the moment, she didn't have the time to stop and explain. The best she could do was, mid run, turn up her head, and let out a short howl and a few barks. She could only hope that the other would at least understand the urgency and follow the call. 
Keep your eyes open for herbs Phi. Look around on the way; no doubt you'll need them when we get there and then, you may not be able to find any. Aison advised Calypsis from her back. He may have been hiding, but he was still listening. And he was right. The chances of this presumably injured wolf landing in a pile of the exact herbs that the lady would need to be of any aid to him was fairly unlikely. The wolf nodded in agreement, her eyes beginning to scan the grasses around her as she ran, no easy task, especially when trying to keep up with an eagle flying above her. 
Another second past and in an instant, Calypsis was almost struck dumb. She realized for the first time that the eagle was leading her straight towards the spot where the herd of deer had been so carefully watching her. Of course. "The deer! That must be why they were so cautious." The realization both pleased and frightened the wolf. Injuries from deer were a sort of their own. Often time antlers and hooves could lacerate a wolf beyond repair. It was a crap shoot at this point. She may very well get to the wolf and not be able to do anything. 
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"Hurry, Maar!" Terralee barked as she raced across open ground, her paws flying as if on charcoal wings. I'm going as fast as I can! the smaller creature panted, small legs pumping as she struggled to keep up with the wolf.

~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer
Do you think we'll make it in time? It smells like quite a bit of blood... her guide fretted. She hated thinking of injured creatures. She hated it. It made her quite upset.



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
Terra kept sniffing, trying to determine not only their query's state of dstress, but also searchign for herbs. Marigolds to prevent infection, poppy for pain, cob webs to clot the bleeding, dock leaves to cover it all, other herbs for poultices (in case they'd be handy). She kept picking up whatever she found, and when she could carry no more, she made Maari carry it, and carried Maari. "Can't carry much more... Hold on tight!" the shewolf said loudly as her paws began kicking up soil in her haste. Whatever! Just -lifted up as Terra jumps- hurry! the small mustilidae urged.

~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


Negative? A challenge for me? XD

Or did that refer to the fact that Scythe would die if Skarl did?


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



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FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



Scythe cursed his wolf-partner a thousand times under his breath. He just had to irritate those stags, hadn't he? What's more, he seemed as if he depended on the eagle more and more. Skarl would never ever hear the end of this, if he did happen to survive. Scythe promised that to himself with savage pleasure and zipped onwards, towards his wolven friend's location.



 
 



That rodent back there looked like a tasty morsel. Scythe was positive that it was a chipmunk, and while it wasn't his staple diet, its kind proved to be quite a good source of lipids -- an important energy source for carnivores. Honestly. A chipmunk, or a fat mouse, would last him about two days' worth of flight, with only the odd drinking-stop and resting-branch. It meant that in cases of emergency, Scythe could fly for a day or so non-stop, if fed on a diet of chipmunks.



 
 



He had scarcely begun to delve into his inner, hungrier thoughts when he caught sight of Skarl. The poor wolf, lying on his side, was now no longer struggling. The blood flow had ceased slightly, but even from up in the air could Scythe still see the pool of dark redness around his partner. His feathered brow creased with worry. As much as he refused to admit, Scythe loved his partner dearly. ((Platonically speaking, of course.))



 
 



He dipped a wing and did a sharp U-turn, catching sight of one wolf -- no, two wolves -- running towards where he, or rather Skarl, was. The eagle plummeted to earth a second later, and, on the brink of falling down, toddled towards Skarldemarsh. The lupine's eyes were closed, and for a moment, Scythe feared the worst. But the wolf's chest still rose and fell, albeit unsteadily.



 
 



Skarl stirred slightly as he walked nearer, but made no attempt to move more. Scythe sighed. If help did not arrive anytime soon, Skarldemarsh would end up as carrion, no doubt. The eagle had no idea of herbs and healing. All he could hope for was that someone who did came along and wished to help. Of course, Skarl and him would owe said someone a big favour.



 
 


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Hmmm... Something wasn't right. Skarl had known it the minute his felt the onset of the loose, floaty sensation preceding a pass-out. Of course, things had never been right in the first place, but now it was more wrong than before... What was he talking about? It didn't much make sense. Struggling to orientate his thoughts, the wolf blinked blood from his eyes, each movement feebler than before.



 
 



He gave up after ten or so tries and laid his head back. Now that he was really, really, really about to die, he found himself suddenly reverted back to calmness. A minute ago he had been clinging to the thread of life, but now, as the fact became clear to him, he stopped struggling. Perhaps it is because he accepted his fate; perhaps because Scythe had left him for dead. Either way, Skarl's mind was once again void of negative thoughts and strong emotions. A strange, contented feeling filled his metaphorical belly, as if he had just gorged himself on a tasty fawn and was about to nap.



 
 



But Scythe had other plans. He may have been scathingly blunt, but he still cared for Skarl; very much so, in fact. Without another word, he gazed down at his friend sympathetically before taking off. A rare sight; but sadly Skarl didn't catch that: he was too absorbed in his own future, which was sadly short-lived.



 
 



And there we go. His dreamy reverie had to be cut short by something. A fluttery noise made its way into his ears, where it rapped on his eardrums and demanded to be heard. But oh no, Skarl would not have any of this. He wanted to sleep. Peacefully. With an effort, he shoved the sounds away and mentally pulled a pillow over his head.



 
 



Dreams... So peaceful... He was drifting awaykjlm,m,,./fihlk-2ll



 
 

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Loner


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Terra, just remember, you can't use any herbs that you haven't bought with points...I'm going to be using some, but I've purchased them with some of the points I have. 
Skarl, that negative was for the fact that spirit animals can't live if their charge dies. ^^ 
The lady wolf's paws pounded the soft ground of the meadow, upsetting plants and eviscerating several of the grasses, but that was hardly the concern right now. The eagle is the sky was setting a breakneck speed, but Calypsis could hardly complain, it seemed likely that there was a life at stake here, and it was certainly no time for dawdling. It took all of Aison's strength to hold onto his companion as she threw her body forward, pressing herself to run faster and faster. The gravity of the situation was beginning to take hold. As the wolf's eyes shot in all directions, looking to the sky to keep her path straight, the ground for helpful herbs, and in front of her to keep from, well, running into things, one special plant caught her eye. A short bushy plant with broad leaves and drooping purpleish pink flowers. Perfect. 
Skidding to a halt, Calypsis had to backtrack a few yards to get back to the flowering plant. Comfrey. She looked to the sky quickly and took note of the eagle's path. Quickly, she found a good stalk that had plenty of leaves and a few of the flowers growing on it. She quickly bit through the stem and gently held her treasure in her mouth. Comfrey was a very important herb, and she was glad to have found it. It was well known for helping to stop bleeding in many animals, and bleeding was guaranteed if a deer was involved. Still, every second Calypsis wasn't moving was another second that the injured wolf was losing. And so, the lady turned back toward her original course, the large bird just barely in sight now, and forced her legs to carrying her body as fast they possibly could. 
The scent of the other wolf was getting stronger as Calypsis, Aison, and the mysterious eagle seemed to be approaching their destination. Perhaps the other had gotten Calypsis' message and they were converging on the wolf in peril. The scent of blood was getting significantly stronger as well, and the lady could easily deduce that they were nearing the target. The branch of Comfrey bounced in her jaws though she tried to hold it gently and a few of the flowers had fallen off of on the journey, but they weren't the most important part anyway. Calypsis, glancing upward to confirm their direction once more, saw the eagle turn sharply downward and fly towards the earth, not unlike the way he had greeted her. Her pace slowed as it became more and more clear that they were here. There were just a few scattered trees around and the scent of blood was thick in the air, not to mention to occasional streaks left on the longer grasses no doubt due to the movement of the wolf. 
 Phi! Look, Witch Hazel! It certainly was a blessing. A large, bushy shrub was growing happily to the left of Calypsis. The bark of this particularly elusive shrub was an excellent barrier to infection. For the moment, she did not stop. The shrub was only a few yards away from a lump on the ground which, with every step towards it, took the shape of a wolf more and more. Fighting the infection would be the last step, getting the wound and the bleeding under control was a far more pressing matter. Calypsis trotted forward quickly, finally coming to a stop above the mountain of fur, slumped on the ground. This was certainly a mess. 
 "Shit," was all the lady could muster out. 
Blood soaked the blue fur of the wolf on the ground. It was caked up in the undercoat and there were several dried up trails where smaller rivers had flown down the creature's neck and shoulders. He was hardly breathing and when he did it was shallow and sporadic. There was so much blood it was difficult to tell were the wounds actually were. Only one way to find out. Calypsis looked up at the eagle who was waddling just a foot or so away and nodded, a silent communication that she would do everything she could. Turning back to the wolf in front of her, she took a step over him, her front legs straddling his shoulders and chest where the majority of the blood was. She leaned her head forward and spoke quietly and gently into his ear, unsure if he could even hear her. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine. I'm here to help you." 
Tenderly, she nuzzled her nose into the spot just behind his cheek and under his ear, trying to do her best to comfort him, if he was even conscious enough to feel it. Adjusting her weight over his body, she began to lick at the clotted fur. The taste of blood was not something unusual to a wolf, but a wolf's own blood, it was bitter and unnatural. Still, it was the only way. Her tongue made long sweeps over the wolf's fur and soon, some of the dried blood began to loosen from his fur. It seemed he was clear of wounds so far, but all that blood had to be coming from somewhere. Still, Calypsis continued to clear away from the blood
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It's more for her back story. Besides, aren't you the one who's going to heal him? ^__^


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"Almost... There!" the ebony wolfess panted as she continued running. The scent of blood was thick in the air, cloyingly sweet to her and almost choking. And there was another wolf there, also. Hopefully they were a healer better trained than herself. I think I'm gonna be sick... the otteress moaned as she held tightly to the bundle of herbs. She wasn't even sure that her bonded knew what most of them were. They could be just weeds for all they knew! She shook her head and sighed.

~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer
Who do you think the fea is? Maari questioned her, fighting against her stomach.



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
"I have no idea! Never smelt them before..." she replied, skidding to a halt as three shapes came into sight. A rainbow female, an eagle, and a large lump of fur, whom she assumed to be the one bleeding. Should we approach? the black otter inquired, even as Terralee began forward motion once more. "Sí, mi hermana..." Seeing as how the other female appeared to be a healer, Maari dropped the bundle of plants and buried her forepaws in her mouth and over her nose. The scent of blood was nauseating. It was every where. Terralee padded forward silently, eyes falling to the broken-looking creature. His fur was matted, breathing uneven and faint, and he appeared to have been gored, eviscerated, disembowled by some stag. Poor wretch...

~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


Lawl. XD


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



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FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



... Klnn.jijn/287hncr66 -- What the ****?!



 
 



Skarl was, or had been, floating in a tranquil sea of dreamless sleep. He was, or had been, having the time of his life. He was, or had been, totally free from the bonds of life and the living. And now, he was slowly dragged back into the world where he came from, I.E. the Earth.



 
 



Along with the slowly-dawning realisation of his situation came a pang of pain. Ouch. The wolf's metaphysical form rubbed his tender belly gently, wincing as another bolt of agony was sent through him. Someone, or something, was slowly untangling his mental being from the clutches of oblivion, and his physical body from death.



 
 



Skarl hoped it wasn't a scavenger.



 
 


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xXx

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The bald eagle watched with his beady little eyes as the female practically sat on his wolf-partner and began licking at the coagulating blood on his chest and belly. He could only hope that it would work before it was too late. Scythe knew that he would die if Skarl died; this made him angry and indignant, then guilty for thinking such a thing. After all, it was still part the eagle's fault for not having been at hand/paw when his friend was in danger.



 
 


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xXx

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Ouch. He repeated his previous comment for emphasis as the pain came and went in waves, each passing more agonising than the last. To tell the truth, the he-wolf had wanted to give a great slap, muzzle-on, to the creature who was doing this. Thanks but no thanks, I want to go back to my hopefully eternal rest, he thought bitterly. I appreciate your effort and all that, but Lady Death had already claimed me. And frankly, I was much better off back there, even though that was kidding myself. I really, really, really don't want to die -- [i]



 
 



How did that get here? Skarldemarsh was amazed at how fast and easily his mind had betrayed his pride. The blue wolf cast about him, rather bewildered and lost, with his mental gaze. All he could see was... Nothing, really. His imagination, taking into account the state it was in, didn't allow him to go much beyond the average "oh-I'm-a-ghost" type of hallucinations. If Skarl could have managed it, he'd have wrestled a wry grin onto his muzzle, but as it was, he couldn't. With an ethereal sigh, he mental-flopped down into a Sphinx-like position.



 
 



And immediately leapt up with a yelp. This new wave of pain was much greater, and for a second, he could almost swear that he'd heard a grunt escape his jaws. Maybe one did; he was entirely occluded from the happenings of the so-called "real" world, save for the washes of pain flooding his mind now and then.



 
 



This fact changed a moment later. Red stars started dancing in front of his physical eyeballs, drawing his attention back from the realms of the dead (or half-dead) and into the living. Slowly, inch by cerebral inch, his loose spirit was reeled in on a metaphorical fishing-line. It's a wonder how many metaphors one can think of on the brink of being brought back to life. Part of Skarl refused to comply, yet another part yearned to grasp the life-line flung his way. Remember the little battle between Pride and Common Sense? The one where Pride was stomped out? Well, history was intent on repeating itself. So it was that the blue wolf's soul was recaptured and drawn back.



 
 



With life came the oh-so-familiar discomforts. ("Discomfort" describes it about as effectively as "breeze" describes "hurricane".) His head throbbed, his limbs were stiff, his back was cramped and his belly -- oh, how it [i]hurt! Skarldemarsh's eyes were still full of vibrant colours and bright flares; a low drumming in his ears heightened into a sharp whine, lowered down, heightened again, and thus the cycle repeated; his heart thumped erratically like the flight of a butterfly through a heavy wind; his breathing could never seem to catch up with his blood. He gasped shallowly, the first audible sound he had made since that almost-not-all-there grunt. This sound was followed immediately by a whimper of sorts as another spasm wracked his stiff body. It hurt!



 
 



Shuddering, the loner realised that his vision had been returning to normal, and his hearing as well. At least, now, with his eyes squeezed shut, everything was dull black instead of flashing with neon colours, and the drumming and whining were no more. He could here pawsteps and voices. He could feel the grass under his muzzle. And he could feel, quite well so, a rather sharp stick pricking his rump. With a groan, now a sure sign that he was alive, Skarl moved said rump and relaxed as the offending twig eased.



 
 



He still didn't quite dare to open his eyes, though he could feel an object rasping at his chest. With each touch, a flare of pain burst inside him. Skarldemarsh was suddenly very glad that he couldn't move anything much yet. Otherwise, he might have leapt up and kick-boxed the creature to the shores and pushed it/him/her into the sea.



 
 

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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.



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Loner


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"...((had he mentioned that h was almost trampled on by a stag, but ended up only suffering a minor, but still shockingly bloody, scalp wound?))..." That is that part that made me think it was his head that was injured. Sorry for the confusion, I just wanted to be sure before I posted again. Also, I powerplayed just slight, only moving him, but if you want me to change it, just let me know. 
And Terra, I figured you knew about the herbs, I just wanted to make sure. 
It had only been a few moments when another wolf came upon the scene. She must have also smelled the blood because she had come at a run carrying various herbs as well. Calypsis looked up from the blue body of the wolf she was standing over. All she could taste was the bitter bite of the blood, blood from another wolf. The fur around her mouth was no doubt dyed with the sticky red substance and she could only imagine how this looked. Hopefully, the other would realize that she was not the reason for this particular event, she was only trying to help. But honestly, any wolf that saw Calypsis and then looked at the male under her, was a fool to think that the scrawny female could have brought the muscley male to the earth. 
There wasn't really all that much that Calypsis could think to say at the moment. "I think it was the deer. He seems to have been gored but I can't tell how bad it is yet, there is to much blood." The chipmunk hadn't said anything is quite a while; he had scurried down from the Calypsis's back and up into the tree he had earlier identified as Witch Hazel. If you looked closely, you could see him, gnawing diligently at a loose spot in the bark. Every now and again he would get a good hold and tear off a strip. These strips, he dropped to the ground were a decent sized pile was forming. Not knowing what else to say, Calypsis turned back to the wolf below her. He seemed to be roused into consciousness by her licking and he didn't seem all that pleased about it. 
The blood was slowly disappearing from the tangled blue fur of the wolf's head and neck. Nothing. Nothing that serious at least, a deep gash here and there, no doubt exceptionally painful, but not in any was life threatening. Shit. Were the hell is it? Calypsis stepped back over the wolf, no longer straddling him. Her eyes moving quickly, scanning his body, she spotted a particularly gruesome looking spot on his stomach. His skin shouldn't be laying that way. That must be it. Unfortunately for the both of them, the way he had laid down, had put about half of the wound under him. "Oh this is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me," she said, truly feeling terrible that she was about to have to do this. She put a paw on his closest shoulder and pushed, rolling his body away from her just enough to allow her to get to his wound. His spine twisted around the pivot point and she was sure it was no sort of comfortable, but there was no other way. 
Awkwardly, she bent her neck down, trying once again to clear away the matted blood. No good, the angle was to severe. Her paw still pushing his body over, she looked back to the other black wolf who had arrived later. "Can you come hold him, I need to clear some of this blood away." As she looked back down at the creature, she immediately realized the severity of the wound. When she had turned him, allowing her access to the injury, she had also given his innards and exit. It was really the way he fell that had been keeping him mostly intact, but now, his stomach open and exposed, no small amount of his intestinal tract had slipped through the bloody opening. This was getting worse by the second.
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DANG IT!!!!!!!! WRONG ACCOUNT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!! sorry. I get angry when I forget to switch accounts ^_^;;


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~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer

The black wolf whined slightly as she walked over. She could see the male's organs beginnign to slip out of his body. Not good. They'd have to get them back in and resituated. She nodded to the other female and ran over, the otter rolling backwards off of her back. When she reached the half-concious male and the female, she stared for a moment, then did as she was told. She lay down on the other side of the male and, draping her paws over his abdomen, gently pulled him towards her with her claws, holding him up so that the rather colorful female could fully access his injury.



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
"Qué Mal? Er... How bad? Will he survive? she asked as she leaned forwards slightly to glimpse the gruesome injury. It was nasty indeed. She whined softly. the rearranging and treating of the male would be an extremely painful process. It was not fun to have one's entrails dangling from one's body.

~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


Did something to it.


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



    ~    



FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



Oh shixt.



 
 



He was beginning to really, really hate this. One second ago the pain was simply... painful. Now it's excruciating. With a disapproving moan, Skarl gritted his teeth and prayed sincerely that he didn't know the wolf who was poking at his wound (as if it were some exotic creature) at that particular moment, because he would be very sorry if it turned out to be some old ally of his. Quite sorry, but not enough to spare said wolf the fate of -- what was it again? Ah, yes -- kick-boxing him/her to the shores and pushing him/her in.



 
 



Wolf, now, because the paws were definitely canine. And so was the voice; the male's ears caught strains of speech, mostly regarding blood and deer. A female voice, actually, to add (painful) insult to (even more painful) injury! Him, Skarldemarsh, loner of the Astiri Meadow and Its Surrounding Lands -- being prodded at and scrutinised by a female in his times of utmost disgrace! The shame of it!



 
 



As he lamented, Skarl couldn't help but notice more noises that seemed to announce the arrival of something else. Great. Just great. He just had to be put on the "Special Spotlight" column, hadn't he? It took an effort not to yelp with pain as the weight straddling him shifting, bring with its movements a renewes spurting of blood from his wound. Ouch.



 
 



"Limme alone!"



 
 



Now that was better. He would make it clear to whoever was observing him that he didn't like to be observed, and practically hated it when physical contact joined the observations. Maybe it came out a little slurred, but whoever was -- had been -- on top of him ought to be able to catch it. She had better do.



 
 



Then came the sentence he never, ever, wanted to hear.



 
 



"Oh, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me."



 
 



What followed was a firm push on one shoulder, and then an awful agony tearing at his side. In fact, the loner blacked out for a few seconds following that movement, and when he regained consciousness, it didn't lessen in magnitude. Holy ****, it hurt. And then she had to make it worse by holding his body there. With a grunt, Skarl swore that he would murder this wolf in the most painful way he could think of once she finished this.



 
 



To Skarldemarsh's shock and horror, a new female had joined the little party. And it turned out that the first one was asking her new partner to hold him while she no doubt oohed and aahed at the extent of his injury. What's more, the new she-wolf seemed to think that he wasn't going to live through this! Aha! That was where they're wrong. If he really did manage to live through this, he would pursue them to the ends of the world to make sure they died horribly. But while he was planning his revenge, the first female had begun to inspect the gash in his belly, with one paw still firmly on him, and pushing. His head lolled lightly, and he snapped it back to attention. A hiss escaped him; the pain was equivalent to giving birth, which was pretty much what he was doing. Time to put a stop to this -- if they must do something to him, they could do it after knocking him out cold.



 
 



"Get off me! I mean it! And move that paw of yours!"



 
 



It came out slightly less menacing than he'd meant it to be, but now that his muzzle was clear of the grass, it was clearer than before. He even risked peeking out of one eye, but hurriedly shut it when all he could see was a mess of colours. See? His vision was already going. Now if only she would move that paw...



 
 



Why, of course she would, if he bit down on it! Now that's a good idea. Without hesitation, Skarl reopened that eye, focused on a rather paw-like object, opened his jaws, and clamped them down on it -- hard.



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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.



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Loner


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Alright, back on track...whoo. It's my birthday!!! Yay for me. Ha. 
The black wolf moved quickly to the opposite side of the injured male and placed her paws on his shoulders, holding the heavy body back as Calypsis had asked. For being a healer, the brightly colored female wasn't much for blood and gore. She was always a firm believer that things that belonged on the inside should stay on the inside, and the sight of the boy's insides all over the outside was doing a number on the lady's stomach. The late spring air was hot and heavy and that only made the scent of the wolf's innards more pungent. He was lucky that no large carnivore had caught a whiff of him yet. Really, there were all lucky. Even two wolves couldn't have held off a hungry bear if he had decided wolf was going to be his dinner that night. They could only pray that their luck would hold; they would need all they could get to keep this wolf alive. 
Calypsis's new partner, noticing the misplaced organs, inquired as to the severity of the injury. She, now able to fully inspect the wound, began to remove her paw and reposition herself for a closer inspection when she was jarred into a whole nother reality as a sharp pain shot through her paw. An excruciating yelp pierced the otherwise melancholy sounds of the meadow. A natural reaction made her pull her paw quickly away, resulting in no small amount of torn flesh and a good bit of her own blood. She hadn't herd the muffled growlings of the injured male, but she had certainly felt it when he decided it necessary to let her know that he didn't appreciate her poking around his wounds. 
She lept back in shock, landing, unfortunately for her, with a good bit of her weight on her own, now injured, paw. Another shrieking yelp shot through the air, and she had to bite back the natural reaction to let out a growl of her own at the delirious male. Her paw was throbbing and now her own blood was seeping out of her lacerated skin and mixing with the rather large pool of blood already collected on the ground. "Thanks a lot asshole," she mumbled under her breath. The chipmunk in the tree had been jolted out of his own work and scrambled down the trunk of the tree, running as fast as his small legs could carry him to his beloved wolf. Phi! Are you alright? What's happened? "No no, don't worry Aison, I'm fine. The bastard bit me is all. I'll just assume for his sake that he didn't know what he was doing. I'm sure this isn't all to pleasant for him." 
Aison didn't say anything more but he was still visible worried about Calypsis, understandably so. The lady, though pain was shooting through her entire leg now, didn't have time to clean herself up, she had to tend to the blue male, or he would die. Her wound, though nothing short of extremely painful, wasn't life threatening. She walked back to his body, limping heavily and putting virtually no weight at all on her front left paw. Looking up at the other wolf, who's name she hadn't had time to ask for, she nodded. "He'll survive if we hurry, but it'll certainly take a good bit of work to get him back into shape. He's about as lucky as it gets." 
She lay down on her stomach, now unable to stand for a long period of time, no thanks to him. Warily, she looked up every now and then, making sure to stay well out of range of his damned jaws. There was still a lot of blood. She continued licking, as gently as she could, and the bitter taste only got worse. Still, it had to be done, she couldn't just let him die. As enough of the blood was cleared away, it was time to get down to business.
It was difficult even to know where to begin, the would was huge and the intestine were leaking out. The scent was terrible. Half digested, putrefying, rotten meat was held inside of those snake like, greenish tubes. Thankfully, none of his actual intestines had been punctured. If that would have been the case, there would be very little Calypsis could have done. 
For the moment though, he first priority would be to get his organs resituated, and the only way to do that was with her nose. She couldn't use her paws because the risk of tearing the delicate flesh was to high. As she took a deep breath, preparing herself, she dove in, head first if you will. As tenderly as she could, she wedged her nose under the bits of large and small intestine that had dripped out of the wound and began to push them back into their proper cavity. It was a disgusting ordeal. The liquids seeped into Calypsis's fur and the scent was overwhelming. It was all she could do to keep from hacking up her last meal. But slowly, the pile of outside insides began to lessen, and his innards returned to their rightful home.

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DAMN IT! I did it again! I need to pay more attention...


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~Together We Rise
~Together We Fight
~Together We Conquer

Terra growled as the male bit the other female. She would have cuffed him upside the head had he not been in so sorry a state. As it was, she moved one of her paws to the back of his skull, hoping he was weakened enough that she would be able to hold it down. She didn't want to get bitten, too. "Qué? What do you think you are doing, Idioto?!?" she barked at the blue male angrily. Talk about ungrateful!



~Together We Play
~Togther We Sing
~Together We Breathe
Then again, they were trying to shovel his organs back into his body and put himback together. He had a reason to be snappish. She almost groaned outloud at the unintended pun. So not the time...

~Together We Learn
~Together We Age
~Together We Fall in the End

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OOC:


 


Belated happy birthday! :3

 

Actually, by now, all digested or half-digested food would have been gone. He hadn't eaten for the past three days, and it only takes about 24 hours to finish digesting a hare.

 

Also, may I purchase a sprig of comfrey?


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



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FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



Enamel cut through fur, skin and flesh easily. That much, Skarl knew, and if he was in state to apply a little bit more pressure, he was confident it could slice bone as well. But as he wasn't, he had to make do with simply puncturing the female's paw. One point for Skarldemarsh.



 
 



The next moment, his quarry had been wrenched from his jaws, and a sharp intake of breath clearly indicated that the wound was nowhere near slight. A crooked sneer plastered itself on his jowls before being replaced with an expression that conveyed "Oof". That shixt-cursed female had been back to prodding. What's more, the other she-wolf decided to butt in as well.



 
 



Now, while he didn't quite understand what she was saying, Skarl had sufficient to make out the gist of it, and what he could comprehend filled him with righteous fury. (Maybe not that righteous, though.) Would dear little she-wolf like to have her innards prodded at and commented over by two strangers? He hoped not, because he had quite a lot to say to her, provided that said innards re-entered his belly, the wound patched itself up, and what lost blood replenished themselves.



 
 



"Hey, you try getting gored by a stag! Let's see if you'll appreciate it so much, then!"



 
 



Skarl gritted a rather-long comment out, feeling a paw at the base of his skull. His current thoughts were somewhere along the lines of a) the two wolves vanishing off the surface of this earth, B) if they must fiddle with his fiddly bits, they could have fiddled him unconscious before continuing to fiddle them and c) the stag dropping down dead a few metres away from him, preferably roasted by lightning. (Option C hasn't got a chance, though. The sky is merrily sunny. To shixt with lightning and whatnot.)



 
 



A few seconds later, two things happened simultaneously. One, a warm nose had orientated itself beneath a particularly painful bit of intestine and was attempting to get it back indoors. Two, a huge wing had decided it was time to do him a favour and knock him out, thank good--



 
 



Scythe heaved a sigh of relief as his limb connected solidly with Skarl's cranium, successfully banishing his partner to oblivion once more. Never underestimate a bald eagle who had traded kung-fu secrets with an informative panda somewhere around the Great Wall. Well, one particularly irritating object taken care of -- irritating, as Skarl had insisted on whimpering, groaning and even chomping down on a foreign creature's paw over the span of the last two minutes. Turning, he made a move to apologise to the ever-goal-oriented female trying to restore Skarl's innards.



 
 



"I apologise sincerely for his previous actions. My partner is not known for his self-control in times of crisis."



 
 



So speaking, he bowed awkwardly, and then took off. This time, it was on a quest to obtain a few leaves of comfrey. From prior knowledge, the avian knew that it halted bleeding, though it was nowhere near the possible uses this herb might provide, and he was quite sure that two of the wolves down there had need of it. Soaring over the plains, the eagle allowed his sharp eyes to scan the ground. The distinct whorl-shaped plant should be easy to spot from this height, though the colour of it might prove a greater obstacle for focus than that of a hare...



 
 



Honestly, it was downright rude and uncalled-for for Skarldemarsh to snap at the she-wolf. After all, she was helping him, and anyone who had put up with the blue for the past few years would know that this was nothing short of a miracle -- imagine, a beautiful, young female of the species agreeing to restore Skarl to health! Scythe still couldn't help but shake his head in amazement every time his mind came across that thought. But then, one couldn't really blame the loner male. He had been rudely woken up from his appointment with death (and here Scythe sighed with relief once more) and subjected to painful surgery. No wonder he was even more antagonistic than his normal self.



 
 



Now, assuming his partner would live on after this ordeal, Scythe had more to worry about. The male could very well be bedridden, or in this case, groundridden, for the next month or two. And during that time, it was impractical as well as inhumane to rely on Scythe as their sole preywinner. The eagle clicked his beak in annoyance at the notion. (And how come there was not a single comfrey plant to be seen around here?) Something had to be done for the wolf, and fast. If Skarl had been a little more charitable in his lifetime, they might have been able to call in a few favours. But no, that lump of wood of a wolf refused. Now they'd have to either fend for themselves for as long as possible before some lucky event helped them out, or they'd have to beg the two females for more help.



 
 



Scythe had a feeling that the blue male might not like the latter option very much.



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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.



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Loner


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Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. It's a super busy time for me right now. I apologize. Buuuut, on a lighter note, this thread is awesome. 
And I deducted your the points for the Comfrey, just make sure you keep track of what you have. 
When a complete sentence came growling out of the male's mouth, Calypsis though thoroughly annoyed that her paw had now been rendered unusable, was glad to hear him speak. Well, she wasn't exactly glad to hear him speak, it was just that if he could still talk, he was doing okay and he still had a chance. A chance at least. There was still a lot of work to be done though. Still nosing at his exposed stomach, Calypsis, with great displeasure, had managed to get all of his intestinal tract back into his stomach cavity. The liquids from his organs made her nose slick and sour smelling, and she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose up, shaking her head back and forth trying to rid herself of as much of the goop as she could. As a last ditch attempt, she rubbed her muzzle against the grass beneath her and used her one good paw to try and wipe away as much as she could. 
Her escapades only lasted a few moments as she saw the eagle who, until now, had been stoically standing there, observing everything, waddled over and rendered the male unconscious with a quick blow to the head. Quickly, Calypsis was reminded that her discomfort was excruciatingly minimal compared with that of the wolf whose organs she had just rearranged. With a nod, mostly to herself, she refocused her attention on the now still male. The wound was several inches long which was going to prove difficult to keep closed. There was still quite a bit of blood and it would need clearing away before much of the finer detailed work could be done. Still though, she would need herbs and plenty. 
Looking to her left, she found Aison, at the base of the Witch Hazel shrub, working on more of the tough bark. She let a short bark fall from her muzzle and the tiny creature's head popped up immediately. He knew what was being asked of him before she even spoke, and it was a good thing, because she hadn't planned on speaking. Without even confirming that he had looked up, she had gone right back towards the male, licking again at his gash, clearing away what matted and dried blood that she could. I'm coming Phi. There is plenty of bark here. The chipmunk had scrambled to the ground and began taking up all that he could carry from the pile of bark strips that had fallen to the ground. In an almost frenzied run, he began transfering the pile of bark from the base of the tree to Calypsis' side, mouthful by mouthful. 
Calypsis, glanced over the body of the male and at the black wolf who was looking on wide eyed, and had snapped angrily at the male when he bit Calypsis. It was noble of her. "Don't worry, I'll be alright, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. I can't imagine how painful this is for him." She was trying to be civil, but her paw really was beginning to throb now, and the blood was clotting so every time she moved it, the scabs pulled open and began to bleed again. With a half smile, she resumed her work at the incision. It was clearing away easier now and Aison's constant trips where making a nicely sized bundle of witch hazel at her side. It was time to really get to work. 
On her way here, the lady had stopped only briefly to pick out a stem of Comfrey, but it was only one, she hadn't had time for more. It seemed she would have to make due. Damn. Wobbling on her three legs, she pushed herself up from the ground and limped over the where she had dropped the sprig when she first arrived at the scene. She took the plant in her jaws, and making her way slowly back to the male, she began to chew up the plant. It had an odd, not pleasant but not unpleasant taste to it, almost a bittersweetness to it. She bit of a piece of the stem, chewed it up as much as she could, trying to keep all of the pulp in her mouth, and then, began to lick directly over the wound, depositing the plant material on and into the gash. It was only a first step, but it should help the bleeding to stop. But she needed more.

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Hey Katy, Ggo ahead and put me down for on chamomile and one comfrey, if you please. ^_^ oh, and, can we get points for using words o' weeks even if the threads aren't yet finished? Because I've used several...


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Terra sighed. The now unconcious male's organs resided fully inside of his body once more. Good. It may not have been her nose in them, but they smelled awful, of bile and stomach acid. It was sickening. Sh'd been hunting before she found the male and the female... What were their names? Names... They' never traded names (not that the male was any longer in a condition to do so...). Though it was probably not the most appropriate of times, she decided to introduce herself anyways.

"By the way, I'm Terralee, and that big lump of nutria is called Maari," the ebony wolfess said, motioning to the equally dark colored female otter.






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OOC:


 


Comfrey comfrey...


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94ABC8 --> Skarldemarsh



    ~    



FFCC99 --> Scythe


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IC:



 
 



Oh, for the love of all things pure and clean!



 
 



Had Scythe teeth, he would have gritted them in frustration as he cruised across the open plains, sharp eyes catching every single detail down below, without spotting a single sprig of comfrey. As it was, he had none, and all he could do was to ruffle his neck feathers angrily and wish that he at least had some form of expression capable of conveying his annoyance.



 
 



Banking sharply to his left to round a bend as he was sure he'd done so many times over, the eagle cast about for a substitution. If not comfrey, perhaps some other herb, though he knew little in the area of botany, or cobwebs that could stand a good stretching? Tough vines as cords, a branch as a splint for the female's possibly broken paw... All were needed, and all were hidden from his eyes. The avian heaved an airy sigh and dived steeply. One last resort.



 
 



He came down hard, rolling twice over in the long grass, cursing none-too-mildly as he tripped over a root. The bald eagle staggered to his claws and preened hurriedly, for a raptor is but a sparrow on the ground -- to have broken, unsorted feathers would be suicidal in the face of a hungry beast -- and awkwardly waddled towards a stump some distances away. Waddled, yes, as he had no other alternative. Skarl now owed him two favours.



 
 



The bird-of-prey studied the stump, gave a tremendous exert of energy, hopped at the raised platform of wood, scrabbled, fell, fluttered, scrabbled some more, and finally heaved himself up. Make that three favours. Perched precariously, left claws snagging a bit of rotting plant material, Scythe was presented with a none-too-panoramic view of the plains. At least the grass was right in front of his beak; spotting a single plant wouldn't be too difficult, right?



 
 



A minute later he regretted thinking the thought. He could find no sign of the herb anywhere. He'd searched near and far, even under the very stump he had been trying not to fall off from, but no comfrey showed itself. Perhaps he should change his vantage point again, though it was not a pleasant thought. At the rate this was going, Skarldemarsh would never be able to repay these favours the spirit-animal was accumulating silently.



 
 



With something akin to a leap of faith, Scythe plunged bravely into the Grassy Unknown of the Astiri Meadow.



 
 



Meanwhile, Skarl was still deep in his slumber. The pain had eased off with the coming of unconsciousness, but a fever was beginning to set in, though no-one knew it yet. Infection, in the hot days of summer, thrives on any exposed surface without the barrier of skin. What with the lack of food over the previous days, the male's immune system was spiralling down rapidly. And thus the fever claimed the poor wolf. His body grew warmer, the jagged edges of the wound turned red, and very soon pain lanced up his still form. But thankfully, the loner was blissfully unaware of this -- the fever-sleep was deep and potent. His macrophages struggled, fought back the invading pathogens, and gave up after a few miserable tries.


 
 



A half-minute's flight away, Scythe was valiantly battling his own foe. The long, winding stalks of grass whipped at his face, and his feathers caught on each and every blade. His fury had been used up long ago. What the bird now felt was very close to utter helplessness. A few more minutes of precious time had passed, and still no comfrey had been even seen.



 
 



The reason was simple: he had been going around in almost-circles.



 
 



He fended off yet another insistent bunch of grass, pushed through a clump of moss, slithered on and off a rock, avoided treacherous puddles, turned around, dodged a falling fruit, sneezed at dandelion puffs drifting by, prodded a sprawling plant hesitantly and decided it wasn't any healing herb, turned around once more, and began the vicious cycle again. He had just tripped over yet another runner or adventitious root or perhaps even a creeping-vine, ready to give up, when the bird's eyes practically lit up.



 
 



A comfrey plant was tucked away beneath a fallen bush of some sort, almost shyly, peering out from behind dying, brown fronds.



 
 



How very appropriate, Scythe thought dryly. A herb of life, growing beneath a dying plant. Tenderly, he plucked the entire plant, scratching out the tubers with his claws until the black root lay in a small pit of earth. Scythe grabbed said tuber, picked up the stem in his beak, and took off with a few hard downstrokes.



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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.



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Loner


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Yay! I'm in Yellowstone. Training for the past 3 days, and 1 more day tomorrow, but it should even out here soon so I can put some focus back on the site. So, yeah, I apologize, but there wasn't really anything I could do. 
Damnit. ... Damnit. Damnit. Damnit. Calypsis didn't even have time to think about going to get more Comfrey, none the less actually do it. The sprig she had found was a decent way back and the chances of just stumbling on the elusive plant once more, well, that just wasn't something she was going to bank on. Besides, she had to get to work on this wound seriously. There was a huge risk of infection and in a wound like this, that would almost certainly prove fatal. Looking down at the wound before her and the precious small amount of Comfrey at her feet, she had to make the decision to move on. Really, the plant was helping slow the bleeding but more would really have helped. Unfortunately, that just wasn't the case right now. She had to keep moving. 
Tilting her head to the side slightly and chewing the remaining bits of plant matter, she did her best to lick the length of the wound, spreading the precious pulp across the afflicted area. Such a concoction isn't exactly the beast at spreading evenly though. The mash was thick and chunky, larger parts of the plant stuck to one another and it was difficult to evenly distribute the actual plant matter and the juices. While the liquid helped, the actual pulp of the plant was most effective at stopping the bleeding. The cellulose in the plant stalks helped to start the clotting process, which would, in effect, stop the blood flood. Still, the blood, while slowed in some areas, just kept seeping through, reddening the green poultice. She shook her head, looking sympathetically up at the wolf before her. 
She was lucky that this other wolf just happened to be around when she came upon the scene. It was always helpful to have another pair of paws around. It seemed, the second the other spoke, Calypsis realized that they hadn't exchanged names. Yes, it was an unusual occasion, but it wasn't as if they were going anywhere soon. "Terralee, it's a pleasure to meet you, though it is a shame it has to be in such a circumstance. My name is Calypsis, and that is Aison." She nodded her head in the direction of the scurrying chipmunk, still transferring, tiny bundle by tiny bundle, the bark to the side of Calypsis. She let out a deep sigh, looked back down at the unconscious blue wolf, and then back up at Terralee. "Thank you so much for everything. I could never have done any of this without you." 
What a terrible situation they found themselves in. This poor beast. She hoped so much that they could save him. She had to start working with the Witch Hazel. Poor Aison, with his tiny mouth, was still trying to carry the bark back and forth and his tiny legs had to be straining by now, but he was doing such a good job. He had saved Calypsis, Terralee, and the unfortunate male. Calypsis couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy below her. She pushed herself up again, and, though still wary of his teeth, she limped a few steps forward and pushed her nose gently into his neck and cheek. She gave him a quiet nuzzle and licked his cheek. "Don't worry. We'll fix you up." 
Turning slowly, she took the few tender steps back to her position, laying at the exposed stomach of the male. Taking a deep breath and collecting her thoughts once more, she took a small mouthful of the bark strips in her mouth and began gnawing as best she could on them. This plant was arguably the most important of them all. It was a miracle that this incident had occurred literally feet from this very tree. The bark, when chewed and wet, was an excellent astringent, it would help fight the infection that was no doubt rapidly forming on the outer edges of the torn skin. The bark tasted, well, like bark, a not so pleasant, woody, earthy taste, but truthfully, that was the last thing on the lady's mind. The life, laying at her paws, and the paws of this new found acquaintance Terralee, that was all she could think about.

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Calypsis, do you think we should just move on without Terralee? She doesn't seem to be able to come on... I read her absence post, and it does seem as if she's rather down.

View Full Version: You Call That Stalking?