Take two aspirin and insult me in the morning
09-08-2015, 04:22 PM
Walk | Talk | Think The quiet sigh from behind them drew Miksa's attention back over his shoulder, and after a double take he realized that his leader was there. Though of course there was a surge of guilt and disappointment that seeped through him and threatened to color his cheeks beneath his fur for the result - and his own part - in the raid, the white wolf was relieved and a little surprised to see nothing more than a supportive smile on Frith's face. He's not upset. He was not quite sure why he expected him to be - Frith had always struck him as a patient, caring individual - but he understood that there was enough to reason to be. It all depended on the wolf, and maybe he had underestimated his leader just a little. A quick, succinct phrase from Sorrel quickly drew Miksa's gaze back to the healer, and with a little wince he accepted the wolf's cleaning of his facial wound. His eye scrunched closed and he tried not to move his face too much since it only managed to cause more stinging, but with a gentle precision the healer tended and treated the wound quickly. As he watched Miksa wished he had been paying more attention from the start - maybe he could have tended to his own wounds if he only knew what to do - but Sorrel said nothing about what he used or in what proportions. With his paw and shoulder tended, he was at least grateful to know he would be on his way to mending even if he did not understand the process. Miksa did not hesitate to pick up the plant that the healer pressed his way for the pain. While the pain in his shoulder had slowly begun to subside, the movements and treatment of his jaw left it stinging and uncomfortable, and despite the discomfort of chewing he managed to get the meadowsweet down. That seemed to be the end of it, with prescriptions for rest and a return visit ordered of him. That was good; he liked the sound of both. He turned carefully, still supporting his left foreleg off the ground with care, and brushed off the offer of assistance getting to his den with a confirming nod of his head. He could walk. Slowly, but he could. He looked behind him once more, noting Varda had arrived to wait with her father and looking rather disheartened. He would have offered a smile, but was afraid of what it might do to his facial wound. Instead he offered quiet looks of acknowledgement to both the girl and her father and set about hobbling his way back to his den at a slow, cautious limp. -Exit Miksa- |
