Broken Past, Hazy Future

The southern lands were mild, even on nights that should have been chilly during the beginning of spring. Fakira was wandering beneath the stars, not a tree in sight and the ocean in the horizon. It was all pretty damn peaceful until the scent of blood hit his nose. Fakira would pause, hesitant to seek the scent out. What if it lead him to trouble opposed to him helping anyone out? Yet he would give into his curiosity and his innermost urge to be decent and possibly help.

Following the scent that fluttered over the grassy plains would lead him to a charcoal damsel, one who seemed to have been through something serious, as she looked pretty exhausted and was bleeding from the eye. Fakira would cautiously approach her, not really sure how to catch her attention without spooking her or pissing her off or something. "Umm, miss?" He would speak - a little off to the side from where she was stumbling along. Could he help her? Would his shoulder and a promise of aide be enough? "Hey, is everything alright?" Making out details beneath the moonlight was a bit hard from where he was and how dark her fur was - but she didn't look too much bigger, or older than he was.

Hopefully she would stop, and meet him halfway as he tried to close the distance between them. If she sprinted away he'd feel terrible, and her night would just get that much harder... but what had made it so difficult in the first place?