One Wrong Move

With her master having expressed his desire for her to improve her healing abilities, Lyre had collected a small satchel that she'd found in the stores and had gone off to collect what herbs she could in such a climate. She imagined that, with the warmth of the underground, there might still be some plants clinging to life at the edges of the mountain. She could go no further as she was not allowed out of territory, but she was content to try within the confines of the Col.

The quiet fae did her best to not be noticed. She didn't speak to others unless spoken to first. She definitely didn't join up to do pack tasks unless instructed to do so. Though she was technically a part of the Armada, Lyre was a wolf apart. She aimed to keep it that way as much as possible. It was easier to keep her servitude a secret if others didn't engage her. It seemed that this wouldn't be possible today, however.

A loud clang rang out followed by a string of curses and muttering. Lyre gasped at the sudden sound and turned, olive eyes wide. She'd seen the man in her periphery while walking past, but hadn't looked directly. Now she was staring straight at him. The striped woman's gaze shifted lower and she noted that he was holding his paw. As he held it, a trickle of blood dripped down onto the iron where he'd been working. Oh... dammit.

With a sigh, the slender fae padded toward the injured man. Black backed ears slicked backwards and Lyre averted her gaze. "Are you alright? Can I help you with that?" Azure had wanted her to practice her healing, after all. What better way to practice than on one of the pack?

"Lyre"