TW: ptsd symptoms
Let Bas reply first, and then if a healer would like to collect the points from this they're welcome to <3

She was unsteady, off balance. The world around her swam. Her head spun. The adrenaline was beginning to fade from her system, and something was very, very wrong. Her stomach lurched. Hazel's grip on her assignment didn't waver, though. No matter how much blood poured from the wound to her neck, no matter what was going on in her head, the assignment was clear. Her assignment was clear. The General would not give up her post until the last fighter was off the field, until the last of her packmates was safe. She would hold on for them, and for them alone. But as the din died down, as the last of them retreated to the safety of the Plains and their healers, Hazel is on their heels. She brings up the rear. Her head spins, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to shift. Woozy, dizzy, like the ground beneath her paws isn't quite stable. Hazel's head swam. "Hey Bas?" He was... around here somewhere? Among the throng of dark and blue wolves, he had to be one of them. He had to be... in there somewhere. It strikes her in this moment, the stray thought that she was the odd man out. She is the odd man out here, all red and pale. Vision blurry around the edges, green eyes going wide in an attempt to compensate. Disorientation washed over her, wracked her brain. Pure anxiety ran wild in her system, ripping her apart from the inside out. Every thought in her head was coming too fast, was coming too strong. Hazel's head tipped toward the ground, and she could feel her stomach lurching. The smell of blood was too thick in the air, namely her own as it beaded and slipped to the ground before her feet. She could not hold it back any longer, and the General wretches and vomits. Spitting before righting herself, and taking a few more staggering steps back towards the healers. "Bas I don't feel so good," she panted, whether he was in range to hear her or not. She stumbles. The wound behind her ear continued to bleed. Hazel trembled as she took a few more shaky steps... she had to make it back. Fuck, she had to make it back. Though her movements were slow, there was still panic in her system. No, Hazel really doesn't feel so good. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

Basilisk was one of the last wolves to finish his fight, but he wasn’t the last off the battlefield. That honour went to Hazel, who held the rear of the warriors. Basilisk knew her commitment to duty, and moved in front of her. But kept her within his sights. He was worried about her, but he was holding something in his maw, and his head was high. He was proud. He had her back, he kept his promise. “I’m here” He promised softly as Hazel called out his name. He moved closer to her side, and he helped guide her away. When he heard the beginning sound of a reach, he gently angled her nose forward, and smoothed back her fur. His deer companion raced off to grab some water, and returned with a small bucket hooked over an antler. He grabbed it off and offered it to Hazel to clear her mouth. “I’m here, I’m here. What can I do?” He whispered, and then “Here, hold this. This is yours. This is for you” He whispered as he gave her the strip of red flesh he had ripped from behind his opponent's ear. Right where Ignis had hurt his Hazel. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

She stumbles. The ground beneath her feet seemed to be shifting, moving... heaving? No, that couldn't be right. Fuck, that couldn't be right. Why was everything so fuzzy and out of focus? The scent of blood, heavy and metallic, flooded her senses. Under that, though, Hazel could smell Bas. He was... here was here. That was a relief, he was here. She sagged heavily into his shoulder, leaning on him for support as they walked. Grateful, she lifted her head to take a sip of the water, swishing, spitting to the side. Her pulse hadn't settled. Anxiety still gripped her system, holding on tighter than ever. There's something being given to her now, something pressed into her. A strip of red flesh, taken from the same place Hazel still bled from. This... this was the man who'd done it. The texture of fur beneath her grip is somehow soothing, in a twisted way. "You... you got him?" Pride rings in her tone of voice, though she speaks softly. Bas had taken the flesh from the same man who'd maimed her. The man that wasn't her father, but the way he carried himself. The way he stood. The way he looked. It still made her stomach churn. "Thank you." The words were quiet, spoken into his shoulder as she clutched her prize. "Halo... can we go to her?" Hazel was growing more woozy by the moment, her voice quivering slightly. The strength in her knees was starting to give, though her anxiety didn't subside. Was she trembling? Maybe. Though the General tried desperately to conceal it, tried her best to hold it together, she wasn't well. She was still bleeding fairly profusely, staining her red coat even brighter. "I don't feel so good." A whispered admission. To be frank, Hazel looked like hell as well. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

“I did. He hurt you, of course I got him.” Basilisk whispered, worry bleeding into his tone. Hazel was usually more put together than this at the end of a fight. How badly had she been hurt? He pressed against her, giving her something to lean on. His own cuts were lesser then her own, dripping blood from his elbow, and bruises blooming along his ribs. The excitement and adrenaline from the fight still buzzed inside of him. It was difficult to keep still, but it was clear that Hazel’s injuries were more extensive. Her energy waned. So he forced himself to stillness He yanked off the leather material that made up his faux wings, careless of how he might damage them, and pressed them against the point behind Hazel’s ears. Trying to slow the bleeding “Fetch Halo” He told his reindeer, and gently pulled Hazel down to the ground with him. Holding her in his lap, pressing his body against the leather. “She’s coming Hazel. Keep your eyes open. Squeeze my paw, Hazel. Ground yourself. I’m here” He whispered, kissing her forehead. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

One minute he'd been staring stiffly off in the direction of the fighting and the next they'd started to filter in. Exactly what happened in those early moments was a blur. He wasn't even sure he knew who he'd seen to, urgency rising in him to sit along side it's usual bed fellow of anxiety. Everything about his ambitions for Medic forgotten in the haze of blood and sweat and heady herbal smells. He cared about making sure he helped these wolves, his family, and those who he supposed were not related by blood but he'd probably still call family... He cared about making sure they were safe, they wouldn't go bleeding out on anyone. It'd happened when he'd been cleaning himself up, he spotted the reindeer weaving through the crowd clearly looking for someone. For a brief moment he met it's eyes and a jolt of adrenaline shot through his body. He'd seen the deer somewhere before... He didn't have time to ponder this problem before the reindeer was turning to look somewhere else, Crux followed it's gaze and he could have sworn his stomach had fallen out of his body.

His nephew gently lowering a slumped form. "Riya!" He called over his shoulder to where his companion was doing her own best to prepare for whatever was next. But he didn't wait for her, he simply started to lope off towards the pair of wolves. Crux was terrified his worst fear would come right up to slap him, but as he got closer he could see that the woman was breathing. Not well, but he'd take what he could get. But as he grew closer that observation became less and less comforting. There was so much blood and the acrid tang of vomit. He was sure he wasn't exactly a comforting sight either, moving as fast as his leg would allowed but a look of wide eyed panic probably plain on his face. He stopped before the pair, swallowing hard, breathing hard. Fuck! He thought to himself as he stared down at the woman. He lifted his gaze to look at Basilisk and knew he had to step up, take control of the situation. "Keep her talking if you can." She seemed half conscious and it'd make his job both easier if she was still able to react to him and it'd keep him from personally freaking out. He gestured gently for Basilisk to lift his leather wing so Crux could get a look at the wound, casting a quick glance back towards where he'd come from, praying for the familiar form of Riya or Halo before turning his attention back towards the pair. Even without a clear view of the damage it was clear something nasty had happened.

"Speech"

Art by TheStarvingRaven

As the adrenaline faded from her system, Hazel found herself declining. She's felt like this before... but that was worse. That was worse than this, but why does she feel so poorly now? Tougher bastards than the one she'd just faced had tried to kill her, and they'd failed. But then... she'd failed too. He wasn't dead. She was bleeding badly, and her adversary lived to fight another day... albeit, he was badly injured too. She clung to Bas's gift, she clung to Bas. "You always have my back." There is a smile in her tone, even if it's rueful. Hazel clung to the boy's side. Her best friend in the whole universe, and here he was, trying to fix her. Trying to keep her held together until help came and picked them up. She clings hard, feeling the exhaustion of the day begin to hit her. Squinting at the approaching figure, she tries for a moment to get up, to return to the on guard position, the moment she realizes that it's not Halo. No one else could see her like this, no one else could see her weak and wounded. Even if it wasn't an enemy, she couldn't be weak where anyone else could see her. The world around her seemed to slip and spin, going out of focus. With a whimper, she collapsed back against Basilisk. "'m wounded, not deaf." She grumbled at Crux, still holding tightly to her boyfriend's side. The words are a harsh grumble. Historically, Hazel has not been an easy patient. Still, in her weakened state, the General knows she needs help. She can't fight back against the healer, and knows what's in her best interest. Hazel tipped her head, baring the open wound where it bled, crusted with dirt and dried blood around the edges. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

The healer that returned to them wasn’t the one he expected, but he would take what he could get. He nodded to his Uncle and removed the leather wing, folding it onto the ground for now. He’d need to clean it before he’d use it again for battle. Still crouched down beside Hazel, he gave room for the healer to work. He didn’t know Crux too well, but he was here. He had come to the outskirts of the battle to heal who he could. Keep Hazel talking? He could do that, even if she was grumpy enough to bite. “So… that was a pretty angry bastard, wasn’t he? What are you going to do with your gift, Hazel?” He asked, pointing towards the scrap of Ignis’ skin that she still clutched tightly. "Hazel" & "Basilisk"

Okay not as out of it as he'd assumed. Despite everything running though his mind, despite all the worry and the fear hearing Hazel's response summoned a small smile. "Apologies." Her being able to retort was probably a good sign. "I'll have something to help with the pain in a moment but aside from this does anywhere else hurt?" He could guess at some general pains but with her practically on the ground it was hard to get a good look at her for any other obvious surface wounds.

Her neck was priority though and he suppressed a sharp inhale as he got a good look at it. Basilisk had taken his instruction and Crux turned his whole attention to the task at hand. He felt Riya bump against him and he turned to quickly take some of the items she'd brought with her. This wasn't going to be enough. Her wound was too deep for a simple treatment and bandage and he took a deep breath. "I'm going to clean up the wound which may sting, you can take some Yarrow for the pain if you want it." He explained between lulls in their conversation, pushing the herb in question towards the woman. "You're probably going to need sutures so I do recommend them." He said it for Hazel, so she'd know. He said it for Riya who silently nodded and rushed off to get whatever supplies she could find for that task. And he said it for himself, to ground him in the reality he was facing. He'd been taught how to do this, but learning was very different from doing.

One step at a time. Crux took a clean rag from his little bundle of items and dipped it in a stone bowl of water and started to use it to gently clean the woman's wound. Once he was done he grabbed a bandage and spread it across the neck wound and applied pressure. "Can you hold this, just a little pressure." He asked his nephew, taking just long enough to ensure the blood was being staunched he turned his attention towards grinding some yarrow and Agrimony together in an improvised stone mortar. Preparing for treatment after he managed to sew her back together. Which he was trying very hard not to think about.

"Speech"

Art by TheStarvingRaven