Devastation came in many forms, and the pale Argyris had thought nothing could hurt more than the betrayal he had felt when his ex-mate had taken his best friend behind his back. Yet fate had dictated something far more painful than even that, it seemed, and once his eyes had laid upon Borlla’s broken body, he knew then that the pain he had felt before was nothing compared to this. His questions to the group had more or less went unanswered – not out of unwillingness, but the simple fact that no one truly knew how she had fallen. He had known she was seeking her brother, though he had not asked the entire story as of yet – he had thought he would wait until she came home, the thought that she might not never even crossing his mind.



Seeing her so vulnerable had only opened the door of emotions of how delicate either of them were, and he had watched with regret as they cared for her – some unknown she-wolf, Lucero and Zia. If he could have taken her pain he gladly would have.



As it was, the best he could do was soothe their children that Borlla would indeed be okay; that soon she would become the mother they knew and loved, and not the delirious and bloodied wolf that caused their hearts to ache. He had stayed by her side as much as he could, not leaving without another to watch over her, and as he lay in the darkened den, his eyes riveted upon her, he noticed her stirring in pain. The moment his name slipped past her lips he was by her side, his eyes worrying over her as he withheld an embrace, not wishing to hurt her further. “Shh, Borlla,” he murmured, letting her know he was there for her as his muzzle bent down to just ever so gently touch the crown of her head. “I’m here.”

Pain seemed to seep in to her voice – physical, and he could only imagine mental as she attempted to grasp back to the reality of the situation before them. His figure pressed gently closer to her, hoping to eliminate any doubts or fears she had, yet without pushing upon her injuries. It was amazing she had gotten back to them, let alone survived. Phineas had not had a chance to thank the mysterious she-wolf that had aided his mate, but his gratitude also went to Zia and Lucero. Without them, Borlla might have been lost to Magnolia Glen and her family forever.


“You fell from the mountain,” he murmured, his voice low as he craned his neck back, his eyes seeking her features for any sign of distress. “You’ve been out for a few days now.” He fell silent, worry in his gaze. The pack had no healer, though Lucero had wished to dabble in such skills. Still, with the coming of winter so soon, Phineas had yet to send her across the mountains to Elettra.. and that was even if the ebony she-wolf would have anything to do with the Magnolia Glen pack.


“Do you remember anything at all?” His question was but a suggestion, hoping to gain some insight as to what had happened on that mountain. How far had she gotten up? Had she simply fallen, or had something more devastating taken place? There had been a myriad of questions in the ivory male’s mind and he was uncertain if they could ever be fully answered.

He could sense her frustration through the cloud of fatigue and pain that grasped her – it was understandable, and yet had he thought she wouldn’t somehow find the energy to smack him with her paw, he would have ordered her to stay still and not fret over the trivial matters right now – all that mattered was that she work towards getting better. To coming back to her family.


Her answer did not truly sate his burning curiosity – the rage he had compiled the past few days evaporated slightly, only with the knowledge that another had attacked her and done this to her.. at least, as far as she could remember. He grunted in disagreement as she proclaimed stupidity, and in a moment that stirred an ache in his chest as he gained insight to her old self, she plopped her head back down to the den floor, exasperated.


Once more she lifted herself, cradling her muzzle to his outstretched limb, and the regal rubbed his muzzle gently across the crown of her head, desperate at how fragile she seemed now and how anything he could do might hurt her. “No,” he answered, unsure if this had been the right call. Kyros and Hypatia had been desperate to see their mother, yet he could not show her to them – not when her pelt was stained crimson. “But they ask about you,” he mentioned, wondering if this would heighten her spirits. They worried for her – the entire pack seemed to, yet for now, all he could feel was numb.

He held her – it was the only remedy he knew, and as she drifted back to sleep, his gaze softened upon her. He studied the gentle curves of her figure.. the rise and fall of her side as she descended to sleep. A small smile curved at her mouth, stirring one of his own, albeit faintly. Of course he knew better than to believe her words, but he was worried she did. She would not be walking in a few days.. in truth, he would be surprised if she was even talking much.


The beast dare not move now. His injured mate had slipped in to a sleep she needed, for even he, despite having no knowledge of healing and herbs, knew the art of sleep was to heal. The hours would pass and he would remain vigilante at her side, the light of the sun that crept in ever so delicately through the den opening slowly fading to blackness. Only then would he lower his muzzle, placing it beside her, and allow sleep top come.