why does it always have to a bear?

Bramble took the giggles and playful behavior as shock. He had indeed lost a lot of blood, the evidence was there in the trail of it from the door. She tried not to focus on that as she worked on cleaning and packing his shoulder and neck. When his paw reached up to drag rough pads along her own shoulder, she raised a brow, smirk curling over her lips. "You caught me on a good day," she chuckles, a soft shake of her head. Definitely the shock. She chalked it up to that, even if she admired it just a little bit that even through his delirium, he thought her soft. Not many had ever really looked at her in such a way that made her cheeks flush with heat.

His words have her turning to look at his blush and ice eyes. "Measly fallen prince, hm?" She questions, her brow quirked again as she looks at his drug-induced state. Was he speaking the truth? His scent was familiar, but not so much so that she knew his familial lines.

In the middle of pressing a new wad of wool to his wound that seemed to not be bleeding as much anymore, she sees him motion her closer to him. Did he have something else to say but couldn't speak loudly? Bramble wouldn't blame him. It was hard to speak when one was in pain anyway. Moving her face closer, aiming toward his ear, she was taken by surprise when his paw grasped her chin gently, oh so gently, and directed it to his lips. Warmth spread from the contact of their lips meeting up through her face and into her head. Everything swirled as her eyes closed and she sunk into for a moment before the connection was swiftly cut off.

Pulling back with quick blinks of her eyes, she looks down at her savior as he whispers soft once more and chuckles. Was this the drugs? Had she overdosed him by chance? Shoot. Now she was feeling all muddled! "Indeed, soft," she murmurs, her cheeks flushing as she finally pulled together an answer before turning back to saving his gods damned life. Packing his wound now with a healing poultice layered with wool and then carefully laying sticky sheep's skin bandages over the packing so that it would stay in place for now as the herbs did their magic, she leans back with a rush of breath.

"Well, I don't think you'll die, but you should rest," her eyes rove over his frame. Mostly to ensure he had no other injuries, but also to see the way his fur formed over corded muscle and shaped a brutishly handsome figure. When her eyes rested back on his face, Bramble fought the urge to reach out her own paw to stroke his cheek. Call her a fool, but she was a sucker for a knight willing to risk his life for her. "One of our more experienced healers should be here soon. I'll ensure they check to see if I did alright, but while we wait, try not to sleep, please," her voice softened, eyes growing watery once more. If he died now... She'd never forgive herself.

It was then that she decided to reach a paw up and place it gently on his cheek. While her paw pads were not as rough as his, they were not unused and delicate like that of a true princess. No, she had seen travel and fighting, knew the ways of the world.

"So, how did a fallen prince end up at my castle?" Bramble questions, her paw still lingering on his cheek as she tries to make small talk while they waited for a healer to ensure he would indeed make it through.

"Bramble"