Fighting Like Cats and Dogs

Watching Ezra's movements had Syanna on edge. The dire wolf was unsteady and delirious, his eyes glassy and distant. The wolfsbane was clearly taking effect on him hard. Suddenly she was very glad she didn't give him the second petal. As he got to his feet without a word and took a couple experimental steps, Syanna knew this was going to be an ordeal. Ezra was clumsy on a good day, but now he looked ready to collapse at a moment's notice. Stuffing her remaining medicines back into her satchel, the smaller fae hurried to push herself against his side to offer him support while he stumbled his way south toward his pack. She knew she was acting as little more than a guard rail at this point, and if he fully toppled over he'd squish her in the blink of an eye, but she wasn't about to give up on him for something as stupid and asinine as size difference.

Her ears flicked to catch his pained, labored breathing and erratic panting. Her lips pursed into a tight line; that didn't sound good. Had he broken a rib? She'd have to be very careful to make sure he moved slow and didn't fall, lest the broken bone puncture a lung or other internal organ. Ezra was in such a delicate state, it was a weird dichotomy to see for such a burly young brute. "That's it, Speckles, just like that," she encouraged him with soft words, trying to keep him focused on her and alert. "You stay with me, okay? I'm gonna be really pissed if you give up after I used all my good supplies on you." She was teasing him—mostly for his benefit, but also to keep her calm and focused—but there was also a little truth in her jesting threat. Ezra couldn't die; he wasn't allowed to. If he did, what the hell would she even do next?

Syanna followed Ezra's slow steps, helping lead him until they hit the edge of the pack's territory, and then she immediately howled for urgent aid. It didn't take long for a few wolves to come rushing out, a dark-furred healer triaging Ezra while another massive dire wolf wearing a similar coat all but scooped the boy up to carry him back. Syanna surmised this must be Ezra's father that he had mentioned in passing once before. She followed briskly alongside the other wolves, limping with each step, but no longer paying any attention to the pain while they rushed Ezra to the infirmary. She told the healer how she had treated him, what herbs she'd used, and warned of his possible broken rib. At this point, Syanna felt all but useless, but she trailed along all the same. She was invested in Ezra's recovery now. At the very least, she would stay to make sure he lived.

"Syanna Alluráin"