Hot Tin Roof

Drífa flipped the object out of the dirt and inspected it, tilting it first one way and then another then wincing as she accidentally reflected the sun into her eyes. Inconvenience aside the metal plate seemed like it would make a useful surface to crush herbs on. Maybe this trip would be helpful after all. Shrugging her pack from her shoulders she was about to shoo Brynhildr out when she heard movement. Drífa looked up swiftly to see a wounded young woman standing there. Her nostrils flared but she caught the scent of only the girl. Her eyes fell to the girl's paws, one which she was holding up. They were red and inflamed and were likely bleeding.

"It's alright, dear." She took a few steps closer. "Are you in need of some help miss? I'm a combat medic of the Fyri pack and your injuries look sorely in need of tending. My name is Drífa."