Lucky Catch

Walk | Talk | Think

Oh good. He had fallen onto the right side to allow her to tend to his wound just as he had ordered. That alone was a huge relief to the woman; at least now she wouldn't have to bother trying to get him to roll over without upsetting his wound and causing him unwanted pain and blood loss in the process. For a second he seemed to go unconscious, but he was rousing again now, lifting his head with a visible fatigue as he tried his best to peer at that gaping wound he now sported, clearly visible with the absence of the wooden piece. And boy did it look nasty. A part of Tahlia cringed from it, wishing always to show herself in the best light and best looks, but for the moment ignoring the blood and gore was the "best light." She would not be viewed a coward or squeamish; she would hold her ground and help as she needed to.

Tahlia managed a somewhat nervous sort of chuckle to follow the wolf's statement regarding his feelings, impressed that even in this sort of distress he should still keep his wit let alone consciousness. Not wanting to waste any more time - the wound seemed to have bled enough already - she began to follow his next set of instructions. It was just a shame, she thought, that everything she needed to do was so very likely to cause him further pain and discomfort.

Trying to be as gentle as she could think to be, the russet and black she-wolf stepped to the side and settled herself close to him, again forgoing what might have bee considered proper etiquette in order to do what was necessary. She lifted her front half up and carefully rested her weight against his lower, uninjured side as she lay beside him, maneuvering her paws so that they could rest on either side of his puncture wound and pinch the skin together like he had told her to. She hoped, with this position, to place as little of her weight upon him as possible and yet still be able to assist him with his injury.

A quick thanks was muttered from the wolf's lips, and the shapely she-wolf managed to smile just a little at his choice of address. Not as she would have expected, but it was still better than some. "Tahlia," she corrected, "Tahlia Carlier." Her golden eyes shifted from the wound still carefully pinched between her paws to glance upward toward the other's face, studying him none too covertly though likely it would have been mistaken as a quick check to determine how he was fairing. He certainly was a piece of work, this wolf. Well sized, presumably strong, though with so many scars set upon him that she was left to wonder how he could have endured so much to earn them. She knew from her siblings that each scar had its own story behind it, and as far as she could tell this male was full of them. Not young but not yet aged beyond hope, the darkly coated, light eyed wolf was curious to her. "And you? What is your name?" Tahlia asked, still attempting to keep him talking and therefore awake.