Muted
Oragan lenses in a pool of purple gazed at the wounds, taking a more bold approach towards the male who, seemingly, did not poses any threat. Be still, I will just take a look. came her sultry tone, wraped in honey, attempting to calm the other down. Why did she say that? Why did she do that? It was unlike her to attend a injured individual, specially one that she did not made any acquaintance beforehand. Something about him drew her in, something about him called for her by name. Upon the first glance it seemed that the mud and grit had become enmeshed with raw pink flesh and was spotted with blood. A lot of blood. All of it coming from the same, singular wound. One thing was for sure, it was going to be very painful to clean and the cinnamon babe's money was on it getting infected too. She was no Healer, that much was true, however in her years as a slave and vagabond she collected enough knowledge to help her get by. Can you walk by the water? her brow was arched in question and after several minuted in which the male voice could not be heared she simply gave a short nod before throwing her regalia back. A soft, harmonious howl escaped her full, succulent lips and within moment a complete obsidian feline approached the two lupines. Your Ladyship. the dark, edgy baritones of the man greeted the winter breeze in their wake. Who is this? he questioned stopping dead in his tracks, his glances were exchanged between his Mistress and the injured male on the ground. I found him like this. He needs help. but yet the feline did not move a muscle, crimson lenses gazed upon the vital liquid dripping and gushing from the male wound. You will have to aid him to the edge of the river while I look for some herbs. it was not a request, not a suggestion but a command. It took a moment longer but the feline finally snorted in irritation , clicking his tongue, and came by the males side. Yes, your Highness. he replied shortly, with a bow oh his skull as his Mistress departed into the woods. The obsidian caracal went to gather a few vines that soon will wrap themselves around the lupine ankles and wrists, attempting to clench them tightly within his jaws in order to drag the injured wolf towards the edge of the river And..throw...him...in came the panting baritones of the caracal, muscles tensing and relaxing, with each single pull; small tremor and shivers, his breath hold as he used all his strenghts to drag the bigger wolf to the source of water. Anger slowly but certainly building within by the time they got there. |
