The scent of blood was something that always attracted her, in an entirely altruistic way. Ara had been a healer nearly since the day she was born, always driven by the desire to help rather than to harm, a scholar since she learned her first word. It was difficult - no, impossible - to ignore someone that was suffering. The urge to help was simply too strong. Always wary, she trailed after the scent, pleased to feel the warm sand beneath the pads of her paws as she moved along the shoreline.
It didn't take long to find the injured male. His injury was not immediately evident from a distance, but she swore he moved with a limp. Feeling hopeful that she might be able to offer some sort of assistance, Ara would increase her pace, her head dipping low as she came within earshot of him. His dark fur seemed to hide any sort of injury, though her eyes swept over him quietly, searching. "Excuse me," she would offer, her voice tentative, "Are you hurt?"
