Lips Of An Angel
07-09-2013, 05:03 AM
Orica paused only a moment more, until she figured out that the male, but not resisting, was saying yes. Orica padded up to the male's belly, standing just behind the forelegs, and she crouched down, rather in a play crouch, the color of her blue eyes intensifying as she narrowed them to get a good look at the jagged wound. She'd heard before of how dangerous the great racked beasts were. Her father had had his tail taken off by a moose when he was her age. Each of their hooves was a pair of daggers, that could be brought down with the force of all their impossible weight. It was possible that behind the cut, this male also had some broken ribs. - he was lucky he didn't have a broken spine. And maybe that was why he wasn't talking much, because it hurt to. Well, Orica, would see what she could do about that. She brought her muzzle to the side of the behemoth's form, and, starting at the tail end of the long gash, began to lick her mashed her herbs into it. It was possible it would sting - the dandelion sometimes did for just a moment when applied to an open cut, but Orica strove to be as gentle and careful as possible. Her pink tongue lapped out, smoothing away the pale grey fur, cleaning up some of the blood to reveal the source wound, and then, bit by bit depositing her mouthful of greens. She went slowly, it was painstaking work, but she showed no trace of puppish impacience. She made sure to plaster the herbs down, using just then pressure to keep them there. Luckily, because of how the male was lying, he wasn't bleeding enough to render her herbs useless, but if he moved, the wound could easily start gushing. Orica got about halfway along before she had to go fetch more herbs. It was the work of a few seconds and this time she nearly pulled whole plants up in her silent haste to get back. There she again shredded them with her paws upon a tree root, adding now a couple of willow leaves to the mix, and then stealing back over to the reclining male. She didn't mind if he was silent all this time. She had grown up with eight other pups in the pack and only one of them had been a girl. There wasn't much a male could do to make her shy, and she didn't need alot of talk to keep her entertained - particularly when she had work to do. the only reason she worried at all was because she didn't want the male to slip silently into shock. If that happened - her heart drummed anxiously for a second - what did she do? If that happened she'd have to keep him warm, keep his paws elevated, and keep him breathing. But then, this male looked strong, almost as strong as her father, perhaps he pull through alright. As Orica worked her way up the gash she had to nose under one of the male's forelegs. then she was lapping at his chest, where she had to use one of her paws to smooth away the fluff and help her apply the herbs. It was only possible because she'd inherited her mother's small, sensitive ivory paws. Eventually the little medic was coming to the end of the tear, her little head right beside the jaws of the grey beast. If the male had been worried about showing himself as vulnerable, Orica was unconsciously evening the field. The injured male could've turned on her at any moment, but she carried on her innocence making her fearless and her care making her focused. Her little pink tongue lapped at where the wound touched his shoulder, caressing and cleaning the glaring red flesh. The sharp metallic taste of wolfsblood was different from any other animal's, and at first Orica had wanted to make a face at it, but she was ignoring it now as she finished up the stock of herbs and took a small step back to admire her work. A slick green line now replaced the red tear that had painted his form before. Orica hoped she had done everything right. She believed she had. "Best to let that sit for a while," she said. Her voice was much calmer and steadier now, but still high and feminine, almost like one would imagine a little mountain stream's to be if it could talk. She looked down at the male with ears perked forward to show their inner white fluff. She was looking for any signs of further pain or shock. "How do you feel?" she asked sincerely. It was high possible that he had breaks or at least sprains, but until he told her something all she could attend to were the obvious wounds - such as the splinters of bark driven into his back. |
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