Robbed of the Asphalt that Cushioned His Face

Everything felt so still and quiet as she slowly padded along the edge of the castle grounds, her cloak pinned around her shoulders. Her head felt too light and empty without the tiara that had otherwise been a nearly permeant fixture on her crown for the last few years, but it didn't feel right to wear it any more. Even though her engagement and relationship had ended amicably and without many hurt feelings on either side, it was still a hard loss and a difficult adjustment. Before Ysmir she had been perfectly fine with spending most of her time on her and even with him in her life she had often kept to herself within the infirmary, burying herself in her work. She had no doubt that she would go accustom to that lifestyle once more, but for now as she forced herself to leave the castle and get some fresh air that loneliness was more noticeable than ever.

Her mint and lavender gaze was fixed on the ground in front of her as she walked, too lost in her thoughts to pay much attention to her surroundings... at least until the distinctly familiar scent of infected, festering flesh hit her nose. It made her stop and her attention snap up in an instant, her eyes scanning and looking for the source of it. It seemed too close to the castle to be an abandoned piece of prey left to rot by some other predator and as she focused in on the smell it was very obviously intermixed with the smell of another wolf. She began to trot forward toward the smell, but still didn't see who it was coming from until a pained whine cut through the silence of the empty plain and finally she noticed the dark shape slumped in the grass.

Gwyn picked up the pace and loped toward the stranger, her cape billowing around her. Now that she was closer she could make out the pale gray stripe down his back that led into a shortened tail and the mostly dark black and gray fur that covered most of his body. She came around to where he would be able to see her, meeting his wide eyed fiery gaze with her own, her brows furrowing with concern. The deep, sickly wound on his side wasn't difficult to see and her ears flicked with worry. "La dracu..." she muttered under her breath as she went to his uninjured side to try and help him up. Usually she would have her healing supplies with her wherever she went, but this was one rarity where she had been too in her own head to think to grab it. "Can you walk? I'm a healer, but all of my supplies are in the castle. Lean on me, I'll help you get there." He was larger than she was, matching Art's height from what she could tell with him laying down like this, but she was no delicate woman either and could at least help him along the short walk up into the castle.

"Gwynevere Carpathius"