Slithering, slippery snake plants

The world around him blooms to life as he inspects the plant. A warm breeze flutters over his coat, bringing with it scents of prey and new life. Even the musk of a serpent catches Bancha’s attention, bringing his head up for a moment to glance around. There was yet to be a warning hiss so he paid the scent no mind for now.

Carefully, he snaps a few leaves off of the snake plant to store in a basket he’s borrowed. He’s unsure how exactly the plant can be used, but he knows who to ask. Topically would probably be best, but Bancha was often surprised by the ways of healing.

As he goes for a third leaf, the sound of paws draws his attention away. The soft thud of paw upon wet ground brings Bancha’s gaze to a male around his age that is worse for wear. Concern flickers over his expression as he watches in slow motion as the stranger slips and falls to the ground. A gasp leaves him as he quickly stashes his third leaf in the basket and begins to rush over. There’s no hesitation in him as he approaches, coming to stand beside the russet wolf.

“You alive?” Bancha questions first, eyes scanning the thin form of the wolf, watching for the movement of ribs and breath. “Does anything hurt?” He didn’t want to move the guy if his ankle was broken or sprained.

BANCHA