He was grateful there wouldn’t be a lot of ground to cover on his way home. He ached and he was filthy after the spar with the Armada boy. He was ashamed of himself for losing, especially when he had been so close to victory. For a long moment he debated his return to Fireside, and was more thankful now he hadn’t seen much of his pack in attendance. Maybe he could get away with no one knowing what happened. Baronziah flew above him, her sharp eye one him as she wordlessly worried about him. The pair made it to the edge of the river when Ysmir slowed to a stop and the white raptor landed on his shoulder.

Dirt covered the left side of his face where he’d fallen during the tournament. His right shoulder was swollen now that he had been walking, the punctures stopped bleeding by now but his leg was also coated in it. Ysmir left the gathering before any healer could make it to him, his pride stung the most and he didn’t want to be looked over. Now that he was faced with the river to cross he was already regretting his rash decision. He huffed lightly as Barenziah preened her feathers, offering no solutions.

Gwynevere had hung near the back of the group when they arrived to the festival and hadn't really interacted with anyone since they arrived. She hadn't been sure about coming at all, but in the end she just used it as an excuse to go up to Boreas with a built in escort so that she could take a look for some herbs that were less common around Auster. She brought her satchel with her and Eilwen flew over head or rode on her shoulder. Once the tournament she slipped away from the crowd and went off into the lands near Ashen's territory. She had become slightly more understanding and accepting of fighting as a means of protection after all of the attacks that had happened on the pack in the last season or two, but just watching her brothers fight for sport didn't really sit well with her.

She was walking along the river that she vaguely remembered passing on their way down from Boreas when they moved to Auster. She and Eilwen had been having some pretty good luck so far with finding useful herbs, though she was going to have to find a lot more to justify coming all the way up here. Her mint and lavender marbled eyes lifted from the ground in front of her as Eilwen tapped her head to get her attention, her gaze landing on a larger boy about her age who had a large, white falcon sitting on his shoulder and was clearly quite injured. She immediately assumed giving his proximity to the ongoing tournaments that he was from one of the other packs and most likely been knocked out during his fight and her ears flicked with concern. He was a stranger, but she couldn't just walk past him and not offer her help.

Gwyn walked over to the young man, peering up at him shyly. "Um... excuse me, but would you mind if I treat your wounds for you?" She slipped the satchel off of her as she spoke, opening the flap that covered the top opening so she could pull out a few basic supplies without really waiting for his response. She'd stop if he asked her to, but otherwise she'd just assume she could move forward with sealing up the puncture wounds that had blood coating his leg.

Gwynevere | Eilwen

Ysmir was born to fight, he had no powers of persuasion other than the language of his body. The boy was eager to prove himself to the world, but all he’d done was realized how far he had to go. He tried not to feel sorry for himself, there was a reason he wasn’t given victory. The gods willed him on some other path. He sighed softly as the gyrfalcon on his shoulder shifted herself, laser focus shifted to the right and she whistled softly to alert him of another presence. He had enough confidence in the energy he had left to defend himself, but as dual silver and blue eyes found her

She was smaller than he was, similar coloring with a pale bird perched upon her as well. He caught the scent of her herbs before she even spoke and was already relaxing in her presence even as she sought to work on his bloodied shoulder. Barenziah had little problem with her or the raven and leapt into the air from Ysmir’s back, laboriously pumping her wings to gain height. She made the process look much more graceful than Ysmir could ever be, and the raptor settled quietly in the trees above. Ysmir watched her go, but turned his eye back to the girl. She looked about his own age anyway.

The Finnvi did find it rather odd that she would ask to attend his wound instead of the other way around, he was suspicious, but she had come from the tournament, maybe she tracked him down. The yearling boy gave a little nod of affirmation but she was already unrolling her supplies, Ysmir wasn’t even sure she saw him. She was almost as tall as he was so other than lowering himself to his haunches Ysmir didn’t feel like he needed to crouch. He watched her with mild curiosity, saving the gratitude until after she was done.

When she looked back up to her shoulder he gave her a questioning look. It was head or tails if she was going to understand any words that he tried to form. Better to just go with what was most comfortable and hope he lucked out with her name.

The hawk sitting on the boy’s shoulder suddenly took off and flew into a near by tree as they approached and Gwyn started getting out her supplies, making Eilwen huff and ruffle her feathers at the other avian. ”Well, what’s their problem?” the white raven muttered from Gwynevere’s back, but Gwyn paid her no mind. Instead, she focused on getting a rag out of her bag and stepped over to the river to dampen it. She came back to where he was sitting and wrapped the damp cloth around her paw and started to gently wipe away the dried blood around the wounds so that she could get a clean seal around it.

She didn’t even think to ask if he wanted her to treat his wounds. At this point being a healer was easier than breathing to her. It had been all she had thought about since she was a pup. It was only after she started cleaning his wound that she realized she had never gotten a real answer and she glanced up at the quiet man, noticing the questioning look in his blue and silver gaze. Oh, she hadn’t even introduced herself or anything, had she? Her inability to even make conversation was certainly rearing its head.

”Oh, um… I’m Gwynevere, by the way. Or Gwyn - either way is fine.” Well, at least she could say she told him her name instead of being some nameless wolf that came out of no where to treat his wounds. Her ears flicked shyly and she refocused her attention on the puncture wounds. Eilwen gave a little amused chortle at the girl and took off to fly across to a different tree than the one the hawk had settled in, forcing Gwyn to be alone with the boy.

Gwynevere | Eilwen

Ysmir wouldn’t have spoken a word against her if he didn’t want healed anyway. He was faced with a few choices and all of them looked better after his wounds were seen to. Cleaning the dried blood off his fur was the easy part, once she started getting closer to the actual wounds the more he’d come to realize the bruising surrounding them. Maybe his pride wasn’t quite as hurt as his shoulder was feeling now. He was lucky enough to get a distraction as the girl looked up to catch his silent question and she gave him her name, and a nickname, not that he would really be able to use it. He could whisper, but it was barely audible or understandable anyway.

Somehow, she didn’t ask his name in return, and he didn’t give it either. There weren’t many wolves he encountered that didn’t know he was so quiet. Most of Fireside seemed to come to terms with the fact by now. He was smiling as she looked back down to the source of blood and his smile faltered as she started to clean and mess with it. He was well aware of the need in wounds like this to renew the scab and clean them well. His favorite part. Ysmir took in a deep breath and steeled himself, finding that this was the most pleasant of unpleasant wound dressings he had ever had. Gwyn was the most gentle healer he had met, especially compared to what he had to choose from at home. Mostly his mother’s home remedies that she liked to apply with her claws.

He watched her work with silent curiosity, impressed with the dexterity of her paws and the confidence in her movements. If she had been a fighter he had no doubt that she would be a master of her craft. Unlike him. If he hadn’t lost that stupid fight he wouldn’t even be here with the far too sweet girl.

Gwynevere worked quietly after she introduced herself, realizing after a few moments that he hadn't said a word this entire time. He simply smiled and that was about it, though she did feel him tense as she worked on the tender wound. She couldn't say that she minded all that much. It was peaceful and she didn't have to try and come up with words to say in return. She could focus on her work and she got it done more quickly than she might have normally since she didn't have any distractions. Once the wound was cleaned up and the dark fur around it had most if not all of the dried blood cleaned away, she unwrapped the cloth from her paw and sat it off to the side. Picking up a small pot of marigold, dandelion root, and horse tail poultice she had mixed up before she left just in case one of her siblings might need to be fixed up after the fights, she began applying it gently in and around the wound and used the stickiness of it to carefully close the skin together, holding her paw over it for a long moment to let the horsetail set and act like a glue.

She looked up at him again while she was gently holding the wound, her marbled lavender and sage eyes catching the dual toned silver and sapphire of his. After growing up around boys like Rudyard and Artorias who were always so eager to hold a conversation this was almost like a refreshing reprieve. There was also a strange feeling she had that she didn't really need to say anything, as if his eyes and face were expressive enough to talk for him. She did realize that she would probably at least need to know his name so that she could know how to address him. Otherwise she'd just have to call him some other nickname she supposed. "What's your name?" she asked with a small tilt of her head, looking at her quiet kindred spirit curiously.

Gwynevere | Eilwen

She was done cleaning the wound pretty fast, he was impressed as dual toned silver and sapphire eyes watched her work. Gwyn hadn’t said much to him, but she was also busy working too. Not that he could answer her anyway. He tensed when she hit the real tender spots, but didn’t make a sound otherwise. His expression didn’t hide the pain either, but even if he could have made a pained whine he didn’t. Vocalizations weren’t usually his first go to when signaling pain. He did take in a sharp inhale of breath as she began to fill the punctures with her salve. Ysmire only barely kept from shying away from her touch, he knew it was needed.

He returned his steel and sky eyes to her own brilliant gaze as she hold her paws to his shoulder. Despite how much it stung he was comforted by her gentle touch and careful care. There weren’t many wolves that touched him, so having her extended contact was almost uncomfortable in its newness, but in a good way. He wouldn’t have been able to explain it if he could speak anyway. Her marbled gaze met his, and she seemed as curious about him as he felt about her. He had sisters, but they weren’t like this warm little healer.

His soft expression changed as she asked him for his name in return. He broke her gaze and furrowed his brow, frowning. You’d think in his year of life he would have a reliable way to tell strangers his name. Dark ears fell to his skull and his head lowered and he returned his gaze to her with a look of guilt. Like he was sorry he couldn’t answer her question. If that silly fox was around she could have spoken for him, but with the warmth she wasn’t near as active as during the winter. Barenziah was only barely more understandable than he was.

She was close enough though, he would do his best to attempt a whisper. Slowly so he didn’t make her nervous with how close he put his jaws to her ear Ysmir tried to speak for the first time in a long time. ”Ysmir Finnvi.” The words were strained and he wondered as he pulled back if she could even make sense of them. His voice was naturally hoarse and so quiet even being next to her ear it was hardly enough to be called a whisper.

Gwynevere's brows pulled together with a bit of confusion and concern as he looked away from her with a frown at her question, wondering to herself if there was something about his name that he hated or was ashamed of. She knew there were wolves that didn't like their family or something of that sort so maybe he just didn't want to admit his name to her? That didn't really seem like that could be it either when he looked back at her with a soft look of guilt. For a fighter he was awfully soft and sweet. She gave him an encouraging smile, but remained quiet, giving him the time and space to answer if he wanted to or even just tell her that he didn't want to answer. She wouldn't really mind either way - after all, they were from completely different packs. It wasn't like they were likely to cross paths again after today.

When he started to move closer, she held still and allowed him to do so even though she was uncertain about having him so close. Her cheek very nearly brushed his as he brought his muzzle to her ear. She couldn't really understand what he was doing or why he needed to do it until he finally spoke. Her ears perked to catch the quiet, strained, horse tones that barely even formed a whisper, but she could make out the words. Ysmir Finnvi. Suddenly his silence made perfect sense and the understanding brightened up her expression, chasing away the confusion that had lingered there. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak, he simply couldn't. She didn't know if that was an issue he was born with or that had developed later, but either way, it at least helped her understand the quiet man a little better.

A smile pulled across her lips as he leaned back again and she nodded, feeling grateful and touched that he would even make himself try to say his name for her. "A pleasure to meet you, Ysmir," she replied, her tail wagging gently behind her without really realizing it. Her face flushed and she looked down at his wounds again shyly to finish her work, her ears tucked back against her head though the smile remained. She lifted her paw away from the wound and examined her work before reaching back into her bag to pull out a small piece of wintergreen, holding it up to him to take. "Here, just a little for the pain to help you get home." Once he had taken it she packed up her remaining supplies and slipped the strap of the back back over her neck and shoulder.

She looked up at him again, mint and lavender marbled eyes finding two-toned blue and silver. Gwyn offered him another shy smile, uncertain of why she felt so comfortable around him when he was still very much a stranger, but she didn't really want to question it either. She hadn't really made the time to make friends so the wolves she felt comfortable around were few and far between. "If you're ever in Auster, feel free to come by The Hallows. It's a big castle, you can't miss it. I'd... I'd like to see you again." Her face flushed even hotter and she looked away again, backing away from him a bit. "At least one of my siblings is probably done with their fights by now so I better get back to the tournament..." With that she hurried away, still smiling even though she couldn't bring herself to look up at him again.

Gwynevere | Eilwen