The mind of a healer is ever filled

Bass was resting beside the river, the steady flow of it rushing in his ears. If he closed his eyes it was all he could hear, it sounded like there was nothing else in the world but that river. But there was one sound that did cut across the waters, a howl from a wolf he had not seen in a long time. He leaped to his paws, nearly stumbling as he righted himself to quickly. Looking around he tried to tell if he was just dreaming it, but no. Her scent billowed towards him, carrying the smell of herbs and -- blood. Fear now clouded in his eyes as he raced towards the border, easily picking out her brown form among the short grass. He rushed to her side, walking a circle around her as he checked her out for injuries. Nothing looked too major, but he wasn't really a healer. "Oh mio Dio, what happened to you Nona?" he asked, concern lacing his vocals. "I thought that healers weren't supposed to get hurt. Did all your magical healing powers vanish?" Bass teased, trying to lighten the mood a bit. The Azat could tell that she was tired, and who wouldn't be after being away from home for so long. The scent of Abaven just barely clung to her pelt, reminding him of just how long she had been away for.