The scent of blood caught her attention, and a moment of snuffling through the ungrowth would have her keening in to the dark red spot. She sniffed it cautiously, and it told her what she had already sermissed. Wolfblood. The roar of the angry bear had sounded in this direction, and well caution had her moving slowly, she knew she was too late to help whoever it had attacked. A roiling feeling of regret had her pausing for a moment. She should have picked up her pace, danger be damned. The problem was, Riva was not a fighter. Twenty five inches of light weight, with legs built for agility, anyone could see why. Not to mention the healer bag that thumped against her side anytime she picked up her pace. An angry bear? She would have just been the meat that let the other wolf get away.
That didn’t let the feeling set any easier in her gut. She had been nearby, and a fellow wolf had been brutally attacked. She didn’t hold much hope that they had survived, so really she had no reason to pursue this trail.
She ought to put her attention elsewhere, like getting away from the area of an angry bear. The mental protest fell on deaf ears, because her paws continued to move, propelling her forward. Her slow pace meant some time had passed before she came upon the river, and the limp form of the wolf. Her breath caught in her throat, before she saw the steady rise and fall of his breath. He was alive!
She moved closer, sniffing carefully. She already knew he had an open wound, but didn’t yet know the full extent of the damage. Has his wounds brought him into unconsciousness, or had he simply let exhaustion take him? It was hard to say. She moved closer, in his personal space now, and sniffed gently across his wound. She would need her cleaning salve first, some pain killers, and something to bind it with. “Hello?” she asked gently, testing to see what type of sleep or unconsciousness he had fallen into.
