So she built a ladder...

Spider wakes from an evening nap with a large yawn, rolling carelessly out of bed and smoothing down a few strands of wayward fur. they’re slowly adjusting to their new room, though they keep expecting to wake up in the treehouse, sunlight streaming in through their window and stirring their pelt with a cool morning breeze. in an attempt to make it feel more like home, they’ve already tacked up a few posters and propped up a few plants, though without access to sunlight it’s likely most of them will wither in weeks. still, they’re thinking of other ways to brighten up the place, like hunting down a sheep and skinning it’s pelt for a rug. that’d really tie the room together, wouldn’t it? humming to themselves, Spider trots out of their room, but the presence of a familiar scent stops them short.

Iggy…?

it’s a reasonably new scent, considering they’ve only met once, but Spider recognises it all the same. and it’s different, intertwined with herbs and tea and…blood. frowning, they step hesitantly into the room beside theirs and let their eyes drink in the scene before them. needless to say, it isn’t a pretty sight. “Ig, oh my gosh!” they rush forward, mouth agape and eyes so wide the whites of them are nearly visible. the little slave is slathered in bandages and balms, her bed surrounded by healing paraphernalia. her face is contorted in pain, and Spider’s stomach gives a nauseous flip. “what happened?” they rasp, not wanting to startle her. probably wasn’t a good idea to go galloping into a sick person’s room and start shouting. “did…did someone do this to you?” they won’t say Bas’ name, they truly don’t believe he’d treat any packmate this way, not even a slave. still, they have to know the truth for their own piece of mind.

Speech