Step One: Get Out Alive

Tornach's family had been on tenterhooks for some time now knowing that at some point Bass Destruction would be laying siege to the pack who had taken over their homeland, and now it was happening. Just over the border he had been listening to the snarls and yips of battling wolves, staring curiously though he could not possibly see through to the battle. He'd slipped away from his family, too curious to stay behind with them hanging around the Abaven healers' camp with nothing to do. Baine and Zuriel and Regulus could stay there and help - he wanted to see what was going on. And it wouldn't be long before the aftermath of the battle spilled headlong into his lap, metaphorically speaking.

A crashing of plant life and cursing sent nearby birds fleeing, and the scent of blood and that familiar scent of the pack from over the border hit him at the same time. His ears perked up, even his droopy ear picking up as he turned his head to pinpoint the scent. It was nearby, very close by, and the yearling was quick to investigate. He was... insanely curious to know more about these Hellstrom wolves that his mother disliked so much. He wanted to see them, despite her edict to avoid them, and see why they were so evil. Did they have horns, and scales, and maybe oozed mucus like slugs?

His head tilted at the sound of another voice, one that didn't match the angry cursing he'd heard. Coming into sight of the source of the voices he could see one of his mother's friends speaking threateningly to a blood-splashed and half-hidden young male. Tor was a little disappointed - he was just a normal wolf, black and white beneath the bright smears of fresh blood, and not even a very big one. Solemnly, Tornach surveyed the pair of them, and reached one very serious conclusion. He had to help.

"Leave him alone," he said to his mother's friend, his childlike voice grave and unyielding. "It's not right to chase away someone who needs help, no matter who they are. This isn't our land either, so we have no right to make him go away. Can't you see he's hurt?" He stepped closer, blue eyes sweeping across the black and white male. He knew some healing, very little, but some from having spent a great deal of time in the den around his healer-sister and healer-father, and a sick mother and brother. Maybe he could help. "I'm Tornach. I'd like to help you. Would you let me?"