You've Gotta Be Kitten Me

Once Resin was done, she set about cleaning and plastering her own wound with the poultice. She twisted around to reach her thigh and smear the paste over the open flesh, wincing at the sting of it. That was alright, though; if nothing else, it was significantly better than dying of infection. Too, she would make a point of seeing Iolaire to take a look at the gashes, and hopefully grab a proper bag, finally. She idly wondered how well it would heal, if there would be a scar left behind. She might've been intrigued, and maybe a bit proud, if her leg didn't feel like it was being bit by a thousand fire ants at once.

A soft snort served as her only reply to the woman's answer. She was sure, then, that Resin had many notches under her pelt, if any of them had been like that witless black-and-white beast. Maybe it was a bit of a drag to keep running into these predators, but if she had Resin by her side? Mal had nothing to worry about.

Thankfully, the Resin was already thinking ahead, and had begun to prepare the carcass for transport. Malalia packed up her supplies in the meantime, and took the loose vines in her maw. Whenever the woman was ready, she'd tie them underneath her as Resin had instructed. Mal felt a bit useless for foisting all the work on her, but it's not like she wasn't relieved. It'd make the walk home easier for her. Hopefully they could close that distance as soon as possible.