Darkened Skies

Paladin was deep in thought, dual toned eyes gazing out into the veil of rain without seeing it. He was considering what lessons there were that the healers would need. He’d promised a lesson on birthing, and its complications, so there was that—a screech shattered through his contemplation, and he was on his paws almost as soon as the grey form struck the ground with a gut dropping thud.

He was bounding into the rain before he was truly aware, that firm click of professionalism settling into place echoing in his mind as he slid to a stop on the slick grass beside… “Sterling?” Incredulity lay beneath a note of surprise and concern.

What was the Talisian female doing all the way up here, so close to Celestial’s walls? She was breathing, at least… A flash of suspicion warred with his natural concern as he bent to begin his examinations. Her scent caught his attention, or rather, the noticeable difference. She wasn’t Talisian anymore. There wasn’t a single whiff of the pack’s scent in her fur.

He snorted, puzzling it over on one side of his mind while the healer’s side noted her injuries. She must have struck her head against the ground, hard enough to render her unconscious. His eyes flicked up to the ravine wall. She’d fallen a decent height, certainly; that had to be about fifteen feet.

One thing was certain, beyond an external examination and treatment of cuts and pain, there was little he could do here with her unconscious and him far from his healing supplies. She had to wake up if he was going to find out whether she was injured worse on the inside.

He lifted a paw, prodding her shoulder gently – though incessantly – as he bent to call into her ear, “Sterling? Sterling!” Harder prodding, then, sharply, "Múscail, diabhal tú."”

Shortly after, he followed it with a sharp chomp on her ear. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to pinch like hell and send a jolt of pain to her brain that might jar her awake. If this didn’t work, he’d have to improvise a travois.