Fetch! Yes, Warlord!

Bas went down and the bear with it, on top of Oleander. The white wolf used his claws on the fleshy underbelly to haul himself closer to its throat. Dropping the knife, he lunged for its throat and clung with all his strength. Making as many bloody ribbons of its chest as he could when he raked his cat sharp claws to help him keep his grip. The bear thrashed and swiped but could not reach Ollie before the blood drained from its wounds and it fell with a mighty flop on its side, letting the white wolf, now drenched in polar bear blood back away from the kill.

He looked around for Bas and Ignita, the Warlord was out cold. Damn. He panted with the exertion of the fight as he weakly looked over Basilisk. Then flicked his eyes to Ignita. She seemed no worse for wear.

"I'll be back. Gonna grab supplies." And he padded back to the healers' den for the kit, this time packing a needle and thread like he should have in the last kit.

"Speech"