On the cusps of Boreas, between the lands, two vast fields they called the Veteran's Plateau and the Battlefield were laid out. If the large, blue, and grey mottled male was not seen in either of those lands, he would spend his lonely nights and days in the North. Up there, not many wolves spent their time. It was too cold, too dangerous, too barren. But that's what he preferred. Thick forests and deep hills, he could be alone without anyone to bother him. Except, winter was here now and things had changed. Chilly days easily in the single digits with blustery snowfalls made quick to cover tracks and scents. So, he spent more time on the cusps of the lands than anywhere else. Having not only sparred with two females but also helped another female and her two companions take down a bear, all he wanted was to go home now. What was with females and wanting to beat the shit out of things around here? This he thought funny, but also admired their resilience and strength. If only he could maybe one day convince a female as strong as one of them to stick around him for a while. Maybe he could make them a home somewhere. While his current home was not a specific place, it was not where he was. Rust-colored blood matted his shaggy coat and he thanked the heavens that he wasn't still bleeding. Battered and bruised, he was worried that the open lacerations along the back of his neck from both spars would become infected. Thankfully the bear had not inflicted too much damage aside from heavy bruising and minor scratches across his muzzle. Disoriented and obviously lost, Gilgamesh stopped as the tickle of feathery willow trees brushed along his fur. Looking around, he blinked hard. This place was hardly familiar and it had strange swampy scents. Wrinkling his nose, he looked for a stream to get a drink. Taking a few sips, he lifted his muzzle and grew worried. If no one was around to point him in the right direction, how was he going to find his way back north? And what was he going to do about the wounds that he couldn't possibly reach himself? For the first time in a long time, Gil found himself in a predicament. Speech

Legacy Ancora

Her back was warm beneath the gift her father – and by extension Valhalla, as it had been crafted by Ardyn and Cairo as well as her own sire – hag given her, and the large pouches at either side housed her kit. It had everything a young healer could wish for in a first aid kit, and she hoped to add to it as time went on. She’d come here with hopes of gathering some of the willow bark, but instead a scent of blood – wolf’s blood – caught her nose and her attention shifted from the trees to follow the trail. She moved lightly—if there’d been a fight here, one or both participants could still be riding the high of aggression and adrenaline. Eventually, she spotted a patchwork coat of fur ahead, that of a large man, and it seemed that he was the one bleeding, if the wounds she could glimpse were any indication. Quietly, Legacy circled into his range of sight, tail flagging in a gently greeting as she called, thick, educated brogue lilting off her tongue, “Excuse me… do you require a healer?” Such questions as ‘Are you alright’ would have been redundant—he was visibly injured, though she’d need to be closer laying on paws to assess the extent of the wounds. She maintained a distance, however, leaving the choice to him, sapphire and amethyst flecked gaze steady, patient. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Still woozy and disoriented, he refused to lay down. Putting himself in such a vulnerable position would be disastrous. He wasn't going to lay himself out on a platter for anyone to come and take a bite. So when the small girl wandered into his hazy line of sight, his ears flattened and lips curled up in a weary threat. With his strength not up to full capacity, he was at a disadvantage. Yet, she kept her distance and asked if he needed a healer. Gil's snarl rumbled to a deep breath, ears pulling up as his tail swung between his legs. "I suppose," he said cautiously, eyeing her large pack swept over her shoulders. Having never been healed before, he was unsure how this whole process would unfold. No one enjoyed being in pain and it was his luck to have stumbled upon someone who could help him. Glancing over her snow-white pelt and blackened haunches, he stepped back for a moment before deciding the smaller female wasn't going to do anything stupid. Slowly, he moved closer to her before laying down on the soft mossy ground. Putting his chin upon his front paws, he looked up at her with his yellow eyes. She was easily almost a foot shorter than him so this position would be easiest for her to see his wounds.

Legacy Ancora

Though the man flashed aggression at her when she came into sight, it was largely defensive aggression, and as her question reached him, the snarl faded out, though suspicion still rankled in his eyes. She waited, patient as ever, watching to see whether he chose the spot he was in and she could come to him, or… ah. She made no move until he was settled out on the ground before her, then as he looked to her, she nodded stepping to his side and removing her pouches to set them beside her, flipping over the flaps and pulling out a flask of water and small tortoise shell that had been relieved of its belly plate. Pouring the water in, she pulled out a packet of herbs, identifying them as one of the better painkiller blends and gently tapping out a measure into the water. Twirling a small stick in the water to mix the contents, she nudged that mixture under the man's nose with a nod. “It’ll help the process if you can tell me how you got the majority of these wounds and how long ago. My name is Legacy Ancora, Spark of Valhalla. That mixture is a pain killer. It shouldn't addle your mind, just dull the pain.” Her low, accented voice was gentle, soothing as it fell into the practiced healer’s cadence, as she added, “I’m going to probe these to see how deep they are, and it will hurt worse for a moment, but if they’re infected, it’ll help express any pus.” Gentle paws did as she warned, pressing around the worst of the wounds she could see and she used her pads to see how warm the area was by comparison to his body. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

As she approached, Gil looked at her apprehensively. Watching her take off the pack and remove its contents, he almost coughed at the array of scents that was emitted from it. How could she handle the mixture of all that potent stuff? Wrinkling his nose as she pushed the pain killer mixture toward him, he was still wary. Having never taken anything other than alcohol to dull his senses, he was unsure, but also ready not to be in pain anymore. Sighing, he lapped up a bit of the content before looking up at her. "Gilgamesh," he rumbled before barking out in pain. Yes, she was gentle, the light pressure of her paws pressing down on his wounds wasn't any worse than how he received them, but he hadn't been expecting it to happen so quickly. Closing his eyes tightly, he hurriedly finished his concoction before entailing on his wounds. "Bruising and nose scratches, they've healed, but that was from a polar bear. The main issue is the wounds on my neck and back, those are from spars. Two different ladies seemed to have gotten the best of me," the male chuckled for a moment. Surprised he was willing to give out so much information, but it was a must. If she needed the information, he was glad to give it if it helped her process. Slowly, the pain killers were starting to work. The pain in his body faded as he kept his eyes closed and muzzle on his paws for now. As he tried to stay still for both their sakes, he focused on anything but the pain.

Legacy Ancora

She nodded as he returned the introduction, making note of it in her mind as she probed, examining the wounds. They were reasonably deep, but she thought they might be alright with just a cleaning, and a poultice, maybe with a natural glue to keep the edges closed. They’d certainly scar without sutures, though. She flicked a glance to her pouches. She did have a suture kit that was made for use by wolves without the mutations like Ardyn and Aoife’s paws, or a primate friend with them to handle the delicate work, but much of the course of her actions would depend on this man’s choices and if he was willing to meet up later on for a check-up and getting said sutures removed. She hummed thoughtfully, then moved on to the bites on his back, nodding to herself as they matched the ones on his neck. She was unsurprised at the gender of his victors. Among the Nomads, everyone was taught fighting, though mainly defensive. In Valhalla, offensive was included, though healers were only expected to learn defensive fighting, as in the Nomads. Sitting back, she regarded the man as she spoke, “At least two of these are infected, but only in the early stages of it. Now, we have two choices here. One, I can clean and poultice these, and bandage them to keep the poultices in place. Or two, I can suture these shut after said cleaning. It’ll take longer, but you’ll scar less, and the wounds will be kept shut with less chance of dirt getting into the flesh. But,” And her she emphasized the word, pausing to be sure she had his attention, “I would need to check on them in a week. And once the sutures have done their job, I, or another healer, would need to cut the stitches.” Fathomless sapphire and amethyst flecked gaze regarded him as she fell silent, letting him choose his medicine. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Gilgamesh was not pleased with the way she sat back and doled out his treatment plan. She wanted to do what to him? Shooting her a thoughtful look so he didn't appear outright rude, he hummed deep in his throat. She obviously was that of a pack, her vocal introduction and the lingering scents were a no-brainer. Yet, he needed to have these wounds healed so he could get back to what he wanted to do. Sparring. Fighting. Hunting. Taking on the biggest, baddest, meanest wolves out there. And possibly staying alive so he could keep seeing a certain girl he was sort of interested in. "No pack lands?" He offered, turning his gaze back to the girl. She had mentioned that another healer may have to take out his sutures, but she was the only healer he currently knew. In his roaming area in the north, there wasn't much else to look for in other wolves. Finding help was difficult and the only reason he'd stumbled across her was that he'd gotten lost in his confusion. Humming, he nodded after thinking a moment more. "I'll agree, but you only and we meet back here," Gil's voice was firm as he stared at her with his yellow eyes.

Legacy Ancora

His acceptance was grudging, and his question sent a glitter of amusement over her eyes as she remarked, “I’d only drag you home if you were in desperate need of skill beyond my own training. Should you change your mind, my mother’s Chapter is camping in the Dancefloor of the Gods, to the west of here. It’s a vast, flat plain with one river and no trees. They are the most experienced healers you could hope to find, at least that I know of.” At his firm request, she nodded. “Agreed.” Once he was settled, she laid out her kit, pots of salve and other assorted equipment within reach. Another tortoise shell was pulled from one of the pouches and set out, a flask of water poured into it, before she pulled her fire kit from one of the compartments and set up a small blaze with a coal from the coal horn she carried, ducking away to bring back wood and feeding the fire into a merry little thing. As she worked, she wordlessly hummed one of her mother’s favorite songs, a lullaby that suited the Nomads perfectly. Her paws followed the rhythm into efficiency as she dropped the threads she’d need into the water in the tortoiseshell, nudging it against the fire and adding the long, curved bone needle to the water along with several herbs that would help disinfect the utensils. She would have liked to have her father or mother overseeing her, but this was what she had to work with and she accepted it. Another shell was filled with water and yarrow, steeping against the fire for several minutes as she probed and prepped the worst of the wounds. Once the mixture was ready, she took an absorbent square of rabbit pelt, dipping it into the water and then letting the liquid dribble over the wound, rinsing before she began swabbing with the pelt wedged between the toes of her dominant paw. She worked her way deeper as the wound began weeping, first pus, and eventually fresh blood. “So, Gilgamesh, have you been in Boreas long?” Her song stopped as she posed the question, giving him an opening to make conversation that might distract him from the ministrations. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

He saw the gleam of amusement in her eye but refrained from rolling his own. "I respect borders," he rumbled. Whether her pack was cordial to Loners or not, he didn't want to get mixed up in any drama that might occur. While he didn't associate with anyone, he wasn't about to go and get their pack scent all over him. Letting the subject go, he watched her pull out a menagerie of items and get to work. It was an amazing sight to watch as she quickly worked with the variety of bowls, items, and fire. Her family must actually be experienced Healers if she was already this adept at such a young age. Not moments later, the sweet hum of a lullaby emanated from her. It was soft and melodic, relaxing him into a state of calm as he held as still as he could for her. The stinging ache of pain seared through the painkillers as she dribbled her mixture over him, gentle paws working to expel pus from his wounds. Wincing, his paws stretched to dig his nails into the dirt. This was more agonizing than obtaining the wounds themselves. Shutting his eyes hard, his muzzle rippled into a grimace as she asked about his place in Boreas. "Whole life," his grumble of a voice was short, one ear flicking in her direction. "You?" Gil offered, only being polite for the sake that she was offering her services to help him.