The flooding had done more than destroy the pack's food stores, it had left them with precious little usable natural herbs. Mojito was perhaps lucky to have inherited the garden, the upper strata had been saved though the lower level was all but destroyed. He had no doubt that with dens flooding the pack herb stores were not doing too well. Mojito had been promoted some seasons ago and he'd never called for the pack healers, did not know exactly what they had to work with. Some part of the young man was worried they'd resent him, he was fresher than some of them probably and he still didn't know many of the members, would they take one look at him and despise his bloodline the way his family had? Mojito shook his head, Hoa stood behind him and leaned slightly into Mojito's flank, silent but strong support. Mojito swallowed the lump in his throat and tipped his head back, his voice ringing clear, summoning the pack's healers or those that cared to help them. He stood before the hut and the multi-tiered garden, bright blues hopeful and yet his stomach fluttered nervously. Speech

Holy Heck, thanks Kat!

If the Archer-Lyall had wanted to be petty, she could have argued she was just a warrior, but that was no way to pull herself out of this slump and nobody would recognise her if she didn’t start making an appearance more often. It was a fact of life that packs were fluid and no matter how she craved stability, she knew she needed to accept (even if her mother never had), that people move on. She couldn’t keep taking it personally.

They had been taking note of what was left in their little storage den. Large swathes of shelves had been flooded, her garden was flattened. Chips was already busy gathering what seeds could be salvaged, and Otis was digging up what tubers could be stored to replant once winter was done. The opossum had taken a leaf of bark and drawn a picture of each herb that remained, just in case the names she knew were different to the others and formed a crude tally next to each. It would have to do.

Mud caked her belly and her legs, the underside of her throat and her muzzle from the salvage efforts, but she wasn’t about to stop for a bath now. Shaking off what she could, she left her companions to continue their work in the garden and gathered up her tally sheet, making her way across the tall grass plains to where the call had come from.

She was surprised to find herself the first one there. That hadn’t happened in a very long time. The silver woman presented her tally to the lop eared trauma specialist and let her monochrome gaze slip over the stepped gardens, her muzzle wrinkling in annoyance. "Weather really did a number on all o’us eh?" She had never been much of a one to make small talk, but she knew she should at least introduce herself. "Sedna."

we wear red so they don’t see us bleed

Her ears perked from the howl for healers and she lifted her head away from the work she had been doing. She had been quite busy between keeping up with her usual training, assisting Zee when she could, and doing any tasks she could to help Sirius as they dealt with the damage the flooding rains had caused. She was still figuring out the structure of things in the pack and where she fit in to it all. Normally she would think that a slave wasn't supposed to answer a pack call like this one, but the lines seemed blurry at best here and she got the sense that with everything that had been going on it was a case of all capable paws were needed. She was certainly more comfortable with being a healer than anything else so she went to give her help or at least as much of it as was desired.

When she found the pale, black-marked man with interesting horns and a larger gray-hued woman, she offered them both a polite dip of her head, arriving just in time to hear Sedna introducing herself. "I'm Iris," she added in before she sat down quietly, her orchid gaze scanning the landscape with a flick of her ears. It seemed that the garden didn't escape its own damages either. Since the man had called them here she waited to see what help he needed, though she suspected that saving as many of the herbs as they could would be the task at hand today.

"Iris"

Not only had Gossamer's den flooded but her personal stores as well. Thankfully, she was able to save a number of items that had been sealed in jars and tins but it was still a small fraction of her original stores and it made her sick to think of all that wasted work. Still, she had a decent start and a new, dry place to sleep. Things could definitely have been worse. She heard Mojito calling for the healers and decided that she would join the gathering as well in case he was wanting a report of what was salvaged. She arrived to see Sedna and a very pretty woman she didn't recognize. Gossamer quickly took a seat.

Though she might be young, little Satira's drive to help her pack thrive and flourish knew no limit of age. Thankfully, their familial den sat fairly high in the territory and away from the beach, so the flooding hadn't affected them beyond some muddy entryways, but it was impossible to miss the chaos that had ensued following the storms. Grandpa Sirius had called all the wolves, though Asla had stayed behind with her and her brother in their den. She noted how her mother no longer attended any pack summons, no longer did any of her duties beyond patrols, and was leaving the territory more often to see her "friends" in the forest. She wasn't blind to the fragmenting of her family, but she was too young to truly grasp and understand any of it. Things were just happening, and as they happened, so they were.

This time, however, Tira heard her father's voice calling through the damp air. Her flopped ears perked and bounced on top of her head. He was calling for the pack's healers. Hey, I'm technically a healer too! she thought. That was all the justification she needed to get a chance to see her father. Running from the den, Tira's tiny legs carried her to where her father had assembled the small collective of healing proficient wolves within the pack, trotting up with a shocking amount of grace for a young pup. Satira slid her way past the other wolves and perched herself alongside her father's legs, beaming up at him with shimmering steel blue eyes and a sweet smile. "Hi Daddy! I'm here to help!" said Satira in the sweetest voice she could muster, batting those big blue eyes to try and melt his resolve to let her stay and help with the bigger wolves.

"Satira Fatalis"

Lia was not a healer. She was far, far, from such a dignified rank. The girl did have some rudimentary knowledge however, and a set of paws. She couldn’t help the pack stores by hunting, and while there was strength to her dainty frame, it was a far cry from the heavy brutes she had seen about the place.

Here, here was something she could do. When the Lead Healer called out, not just for those of healer rank, but any who cared to help them? She knew where she wanted to be. She made her way towards the group, lowering her head in a respectful bow to the lead-ranking wolf, before slinging into rank beside a pale silver woman. (Sedna) keeping her silence. As a slave, she knew her input meant nothing. A glance about her did however have her spotting Iris, and she spared a secret smile for the sweet girl of similar rank to her own.

"Speech"