She wasn't going to admit that her knife had slipped. Jael knows she should have had more control, but the tool was too large. Unwieldy and sharp. A dangerous combination. The cut to the top of her foot was clean, but deep enough that it would probably need to be sutured. Judging by the fact it was still bleeding... yeah, it would need to be stitched. Grumbling to herself, Jael wrapped the paw in a rag and made her way towards the makeshift infirmary. The Raiders seemed to get by alright, but Jael hadn't met the pack's healers yet. She wasn't going to call for Gil, not over something stupid like this.
Finding it empty, dark, shuddered when she arrived, Jael wondered if she could handle it herself. No... fuck, if she couldn't find anyone then she may as well grab the stuff to fix the foot and go find Gil herself. The rag tied around her forepaw stained with blood, but not dripping. That was a good sign right? Hell if you know. That was true, hell if she knew. Jael began to rummage around, albeit clumsily, to gather the supplies to stitch the wound. "Fuck," she swore softly, knocking over a stack of empty pails with a clatter and a bang. So much for doing this subtly.
As her keepers, Gilgamesh and Modesty may join any of Jael’s threads if they deem necessary.
Professor
