Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

ORWYND
everyone who isn't me is an enemy

The man pulled and heaved with every ounce of strength he had to combat against his slippery footing. He couldn’t quite grasp enough leverage to make any headway, his paws and nails scraping against the snow and ice to no avail. Orwynd snarled out curses and promises to swear off entering a 50-mile radius of human filth if only he could free his fat head.

“Sir, if you could stop wiggling for a moment.”

While the voice was gentle and feminine, Orwynd’s body jerked violently in surprise. He had not caught the scent of another wolf prior to his dilemma and was horrified that he had been caught in such a peculiar fashion. Nonetheless, the wolf settled and huffed hard. Of course, it had to be a woman. “Y’know, normally I’m stuck from the other end.” Orwynd responded shamelessly in a muted voice, not entirely sure if she’d be able to hear him. Visions burned through his perverse mind as he envisioned ways to repay the kindness of the stranger who hopefully would save his sorry hide.

"I'm a healer, and I believe I might have something that will help you."

At that moment Orwynd was glad she couldn’t see him for he made a mocking face at her declaration. He had come across many healers in his travels and couldn’t help but swath them all into the same category; righteous hippies with a deep connection to the earth. The male laughed mentally but did not emit any vocalization. He was at her mercy at the moment. “I’ll take your word for it, doll.” Orwynd called, angling his head to the side in another fruitless attempt to dislodge himself.