Sacred Grove when our demons come

She hated to admit it, but he was good. He’d gotten good since they first met, and because of it, she felt a hazy cloud surrounding her. The bloodloss from her leg was steady, and she knew she needed to find something to stop it. Think Mae, think… Cobwebs. She knew she could use cobwebs to stop the bleeding… in theory… if she could find any in the middle of winter. She should have taken being in a pack as the opportunity to learn more about medicine in case something like this happened… of course, how could she have ever predicted what had happened to them?

She drew a deep breath, accepting the fact that if she didn’t get medical assistance soon, she could very well die by the hands of herm mate… ex-mate… ouch, that stung a little. She was too proud to accept that. She sat down, keeping her leg pressed against the snow, hoping it helped the wound clot and praying to her ancestors, which admittedly she hadn’t done in quite a while… perhaps that was why this had happened to her.

Draven had woken in the middle of the night, something that was uncommon for the dark wolf who normally slept so soundly. Unable to place what exactly had woke him or why he couldn’t get back to sleep he decided to get up and stretch his legs. The cold air might shock his system wider awake but the exercise might lull his muscles into being tired again.

It wasn’t until a couple of moments after leaving the den that Draven realized what had woken him up. His eyes had fallen upon the bright red stain in the snow and that’s when he became perfectly aware of the metallic scent that loitered in the air. He wasn’t sure what happened and it didn’t matter, someone in the pack was clearly hurt and that was all the healer needed to know for now. He would need details later, about specific injuries so he would know what he could do.

He grabbed a bundle of what he had, black hawthorne and white fir and followed the trail that had been left behind. It didn’t take long to come across the woman pressing her leg into the snow. His eyes swept over her form critically before he placed the plants next to her, silently nudging her leg upwards so he could get a closer look at it.

Just when she was certain she’d soon be staring death in the eyes, there was a form appearing – he smelled of the Draw, and initially she was hesitant to let him anywhere near. Perhaps Kerb had sent him to make sure that she disappear or stay gone, or he had come to give her a piece of his mind for hurting Kerb as bad as she had… but he had plants with him, and a certain level of confusion mounted in her eyes, guarded and cautious, but allowing him to examine the wound, a wince when he nudged her leg upwards.

She didn’t recognize him, but then again she had become more of a recluse in recent months than she had before. She tilted her head to the side, partially so he could see the wound on her shoulder as well, though the leg was definitely a priority, while also giving him a questioning gaze. “Why?” The single worded question was all she could seem to muster at the time. She assumed everyone and their uncle would have known of her departure by now, as well as a villainized form of what had happened. She wasn’t stupid – knew that this was partially her fault, but she truly couldn’t predict what the man she once knew so well would say about her in her absence. She didn’t know what he was truly capable of doing anymore.

Maera obliged and lifted her leg so that the dark healer could get a closer look at it and Draven did his best to ignore her wince. That part always bothered him, the sight of others in pain but unfortunately it went paw and paw with the role that he had chosen. The black hawthorne would be useless in this situation, this was a wound of the flesh while the plant was primarily for diseases. Cursing internally he wished this had come later in the season, when the plants bloomed he would have a much better supply.

He would have to make do with what he had for now and hope it would be enough, it would have to be enough or she would die. Dividing the pile of white fir in half he nudged one portion towards the woman, indicating that she should chew it. The other half he took into his own chaws and chewed into a paste, it’s bitter taste sweeping across his tongue. When it had turned into a makeshift salve he spit it onto the large gash on her leg and the leftovers onto her shoulder.

Looking up he met the brown eyes, ”Swallow it now, it will help with the pain.” Looking back over her Draven sighed, ”It will probably scar, but hopefully it will be enough to keep infection at bay and the salve should mostly stop the bleeding.” He thought it would stop all the bleeding as long as she didn’t pick at it too much but he didn’t want to set her expectations too high. It was her question that brought him out of the automatic motions he had been going through, blinking at her in surprise he didn’t answer for a minute. Furrowing his brow at her he answered with another question, ”Why would I let you die?”