Laufey's approach to handling the epidemic had thus far been very hands off: he saw a sick wolf and ran in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him. The idea that he could become infected somehow and suffer the same fate as the others drove him to a higher understanding of himself: he was beyond selfish. This revelation didn't bother him too much; every time a twinge of guilt hit him the boy pictured himself seizing on the ground with blood pouring from his eyes and diarrhea running down both legs. The image quickly cured him of his regret.
Now more than ever, the boy clung to Valhalla's borders. At least here he knew what to expect. There was an order to the chaos that he could wrap his mind around, an order he found soothing. Who knew what kind of state the world beyond Valhalla was in. Laufey, for one, had no intention of finding out.
The boy had been holed up in hidden den for days now as he counted on isolation to keep him safe. Only every once in awhile did he venture out when the most basic needs grew too urgent to ignore. When he did, Laufey was careful to remain unseen. Of course, if anyone was really looking for him all they had to do was follow his scent trail, but that was a risk he didn't know how to fix so instead he stayed awake worrying about it. This very morning the boy had been startled awake by a nightmare that ended with a plague-carrier reaching out to touch him as he stood trapped against the back wall of his den. Needless to say, he'd spend the better part of the day digging an emergency exit.
For some time now the boy had listened to the screams of another. Of course the ill cried out, but usually by now someone had come along and helped them. This screamer had gone on for an impossibly long time. Long enough that his (now) callous heart was beginning to soften. There was a crack in his resolve. As he listened to the wolf's fading cries, guilt began to gnaw at him. This time now amount of squirting blood and uncontrollable bowel movements could drive the feeling away. The infected wolf had suffered for far too long and a battle began to rage inside the boy. He absolutely did not want to help and risk falling ill...but he wasn't sure he could bear her torment any longer.
After much turmoil, Laufey caved and set out looking for the screamer. He moved with the slinking gait of a wanted man; perhaps taking the assumed identity too seriously by moving from shadow to shadow. It wasn't long before he picked up Amia's trail. She moved recklessly, blazing a clear path of destruction. He didn't even have to use his nose to follow her. Instead his eyes picked out each crushed plant, each patch of tore up dirt, and his feet moved him with much trepidation in her direction.
The boy heard her long before he saw her and when at last he laid eyes on her, the scene was exactly what his mind's eye had pieced together. She lay writhing on the ground, the picture of sickness. It was only once he could see her that the boy realized there was one massive flaw to his plan: he had no idea how to help.
Approaching slowly, he decided to try being soothing. As far as he knew, no cure had been found yet so there was no point in running around madly looking for herbs or shoving plants down her throat. "Hey? Lady?" He stopped a few feet away from her. Becoming the picture of uncertainty, Laufey drew his right paw up to his chest. "Is there anything I can um, do for you?" It occurred to him then that he might be gazing into the face of a soon-to-be corpse. The thought chilled him. "Lady? You're going to be okay."
"Speech"
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