the strong and silent type

Ysmir wouldn’t have spoken a word against her if he didn’t want healed anyway. He was faced with a few choices and all of them looked better after his wounds were seen to. Cleaning the dried blood off his fur was the easy part, once she started getting closer to the actual wounds the more he’d come to realize the bruising surrounding them. Maybe his pride wasn’t quite as hurt as his shoulder was feeling now. He was lucky enough to get a distraction as the girl looked up to catch his silent question and she gave him her name, and a nickname, not that he would really be able to use it. He could whisper, but it was barely audible or understandable anyway.

Somehow, she didn’t ask his name in return, and he didn’t give it either. There weren’t many wolves he encountered that didn’t know he was so quiet. Most of Fireside seemed to come to terms with the fact by now. He was smiling as she looked back down to the source of blood and his smile faltered as she started to clean and mess with it. He was well aware of the need in wounds like this to renew the scab and clean them well. His favorite part. Ysmir took in a deep breath and steeled himself, finding that this was the most pleasant of unpleasant wound dressings he had ever had. Gwyn was the most gentle healer he had met, especially compared to what he had to choose from at home. Mostly his mother’s home remedies that she liked to apply with her claws.

He watched her work with silent curiosity, impressed with the dexterity of her paws and the confidence in her movements. If she had been a fighter he had no doubt that she would be a master of her craft. Unlike him. If he hadn’t lost that stupid fight he wouldn’t even be here with the far too sweet girl.