Grizzly Hollow from the basement

Calling @Veho to the rescue! This is set fairly soon after the Morganna attack, taking in travel time it'll likely be about fifteen to thirty minutes after.

harness your blame, walk through

She was getting far to weak to keep pulling on wards. While the Santoro woman was aware home was close she was keen on making it to the borders. Her paws had started at a good pace but now she stumbled about in an almost dazed fashion. Blood damping the fur around the right side of her face. Her paws had smeared the blood around her face in an attempt to sooth the pain that came from within her now missing ear.

Everything was forgotten when she hit the borders of the Hollow a whine falling from her lips. Maybe she was being over dramatic but the only other time she had felt so uncomfortable so in pain was when she had given birth to @Sven. At least then when the pain was over she got to rejoice with joy. This time she seemed to be fumbling, almost out of it. Sitting down at the border she didn't wanna howl out, the fear of causing her head any more pain was certainly lingering. In rougher tones than one may think the Santoro she called out. "Veho? Rook? Dad?" Sighing the woman let her body slide to the ground. Bloody head laying against the forest floor softly. Maybe she could sleep until someone came to find her and help her. Besides, she had wanted death just earlier, hadn't she?

with the wild wolves around you

# C W T

Set Oct. 8th, for reference

Only six days after the porcupine attack, and Veho was back to work. He’d allowed @Titan to tend to him for a few days – while the wounds were small, no bigger than a quill in diameter, some were deep, and there were a great many littering his muzzle, lips, and cheeks. It was no longer quite so sore, and the medic was not willing to use up any more of their waning supplies – the immediate concern after the porcupine’s assault on their medical cache was the injuries. After the injuries was forming a small barricade around the den’s opening, hopefully preventing any future thefts. Now, in the very last days of autumn, and with winter creeping closer, the gray wolf was forced to scramble to collect whatever it was he could from the forest floor.

He had just finished such a run, leaving black hawthorn in a small, neat pile before retreating from the small burrow to make another trip into the forest for more hawthorn, or perhaps another plant, when he heard a voice. Lifting his chin, he came to a slow halt and glanced around – the first thing he saw was a barghest. Ghostly white and blood on its head, hackles shot upwards as his ears rolled back, eyes wide in fright before he realized he knew that voice.

“Piety!?” he gasped, rushing forward. “Piety, what happened?”

Just when she found comfort in silence something - no - someone called out to her. A voice so familiar but when she opened her eyes she was expecting to see a barghest at her side. Instead it was the ghostly figure of @Veho. He was always there for her and it seemed this time was no different.

"I've been attacked by an Archer, Veho." While she wanted to rise to her paws it felt as though the weight of the world was pressing against her. Leaving her to lay content on the floor. "I'm scared." Her voice was soft and airy, tears slowly starting to damp the fur around her eyes although it would likely go unnoticed. The Santoro didn't want the Archers to come here, to destroy everything she had learned to love. "Veho, come here." For once she wanted the comfort of someone's touch. She knew without her father here that Veho was the best thing she was gonna have with her. Hell, in her books, he was the best thing she was likely ever going to get again. Maybe because he cared like a lover but he was her best friend. It was exactly what the Santoro needed.

(This post was last modified: Oct 30, 2015, 12:04 AM by Piety.)

# C W T

Sweeping up against the female’s side, the delta quickly looked her over, sucking in another breath as he noted the way her snowy hide had been stained in shades of pinks and crusted in mats of mahogany and muddy browns. There was blood, far more than when he’d taken a porcupine to a face, and his heart rate spiked as Piety explained what happened. Attacked. A chilling bolt of fear struck down his spine as an angry flame burst into life in his chest, all at once worried for her safety and enraged on her behalf. How dare anyone hurt a Grizzly Hollow wolf, much less one so kind, and so peaceful?

“Was it Skoll?” he hissed angrily, thinking back to skulking shadow he’d chased from pack boundaries not so long ago. Rook had warned him about that creature – and look where they were! Piety’s ear was practically gone, only a stump remaining to remind the wolf that flesh had once been there.

Leaning down, he nosed the crown of her head. A pink tongue flashed out, beginning to clean some of the blood from her face, and once that job was done, he moved to the injury itself. His touch was much more tender there, working around torn flesh. Saliva was one of the best defenses against infection in the future, removing whatever disgusting germs the Archer had left when they’d stolen her ear, and he could only hope it served to soothe some of the hurt, as well. “Piety, can you stand? Let me take you to my den. I have things that will help…”