Tornach was nosing around in the estuary in the hopes of spring growth. The lands were flooded and muddy, but the plants that had always grown here had been water-loving anyway so should still be able to grow in the soggy conditions. He was reluctant to be here with so many sour memories associated with the land, but he had spent enough time here during the spring and summer that he could recognize many of the plants Zuriel had collected during their stay. A strange smell, a mixture of blood and sickness, caught his attention as he passed by a small hillock of grass as he waded through the muddy water. At first he could see nothing, but the scent of blood drew him to the source. It looked like nothing more than simply a broken pile of feathers but as he drew close he could see the aftermath of a failed hunt - a falcon and a heron tangled together in death, the falcon's body pierced by the heron's beak and pinned beneath its larger body. There was a stink of rot and death, and Tor wrinkled his nose as he went to pass, but suddenly stopped as his path disturbed water and grass, and provoked a sudden faint flurry of movement from the falcon. It was still alive? Curious as he ever was, Tornach moved closer despite the stench to examine it. The small creature turned its head enough to gape its beak threateningly at him - the rotted wounds in the back of the decomposing heron's head spoke eloquently as to what that beak was capable of. "It's all right," he said to the falcon, unsure if it could even understand the common wolf speech. "I want to help you." Whether the falcon understood, or was simply too exhausted to fight, it didn't snap at him as he glanced it over. It just watched him with dark eyes. The heron's beak had pierced it through the muscle between chest and wing, and there were numerous other gashes across the falcon's chest where they had fought - all infected, for he judged that at least a day had passed with the falcon laying untreated in such close proximity to the decaying flesh of the other bird. Watching the falcon's beak closely he grasped the heron's beak near where it pierced the falcon - gagging at the stench - and pulled hard. The falcon's flesh had partly healed around the intrusion, so it only gave way grudgingly and drew a shriek of pain from the falcon, but it didn't move to bite him and he was able to remove the beak from the wound, and throw the rotting heron into the water. Oh my. The falcon was in rough shape. It's - her - skin was hot to the touch with fever, and each wound was oozing and sent red tendrils of infection out along the skin beneath the feathers. She panted with stress and trembled involuntarily with chills and weakness and her dark eyes were glassy, though she glared fiercely at him. Broken feathers littered the ground around her. Even if she were well she could not have flown away, with so many of her flight feathers broken or ruined in the fall. A wave of disappointment flooded him - he couldn't save the falcon, and it seemed like those eyes knew it. Well, he couldn't alone, but... "I'm going to take you to find some help," he told her, hoping she understood. The falcon cocked her head as though listening, then clacked her beak... and spoke. "Collect... my feathersss," was what she said, and Tor blinked, but before he could ask, she explained. "Ifff I ssssurvive, I can not fly. But perhapsss sssome feathersss may be... ssssalvaged, and reattached." It seemed a reasonable request, and he quickly gathered what broken flight feathers looked in decent enough shape, before gently picking the falcon up in his jaws and slogging off through the water looking for... someone. "" ""

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lyndvarr had found a number of useful herbs in the Avian Estuary. It was becoming a hot spot for finding rare and exotic spoils. Day by day Lynd was becoming more confident in his skills as a healer and he was pleased that the majority of Yfir didn't seem overly concerned that he was spending more time healing than fighting. Hárekr of course loved to tease him though… Lynd growled softly to himself. He tried not to let the other man get under his skin but it was hard sometimes. He eyed the flooded terra and manuevered himself through a particularly muddy plain, the earth making an awful sucking sound as he slipped through the mud back to a more solid patch of earth. He was going to need a bath after this for sure. As Lynd searched for the scent that might lead him to marigolds he caught sight of a white willow tree, it's leaves swaying softly in the breeze. Oh! He didn't see many willow trees up north. Sniffing over the bark he began to gnaw into the rough grayish bark. He wasn't overly found of gathering barks but White Willow was useful enough that he'd bear the discomfort of gathering it.

Tornach waded through the flooded estuary, taking care not to jostle the limp form in his jaws. It seemed to be taking forever, but in reality the sun hardly moved overhead. He wasn't entirely certain why he was so concerned about the falcon, except that he couldn't leave something to suffer. And she was so brave and fierce, not making a fuss even when he misstepped and surely caused her infected wounds great pain. He admired the falcon. He didn't like that she was suffering. His ears perked up at the sight of a pale colored male wolf stripping bark from a willow. A healer? He couldn't imagine many other reasons for a wolf to gather bark. Setting the falcon gently on a hillock he called out to the other male politely. "Excuse me sir," he said. "Are you a healer, by chance? I've been hoping to find one." "" ""

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lynvarr was so preoccupied with his gathering that he didn't hear the approach of the other wolf until he was a short ways away. Lynd startled slightly, hackles raising as he turned to gaze at a young man with a bird in his mouth. Carefully the viking set down his herb gathering as the man set down the bird and then asked if he were a healer. Lyndvarr nodded. "Aye, I am a healer… is there something I can help you with?" He gazed at the man but didn't notice any signs of injury that would require a healers attention. Perhaps he was seeking lessons or something of that nature? Lyndvarr had been rather disappointed that his deal with the Abaven youth, Starling, had fallen through. He was willing to broker a deal with another if there was potential in it being mutually beneficial.

A wave of relief struck him as the man confirmed that he was indeed a healer. Tornach just did not have confidence in his own untrained abilities, so to have possible help was a weight off his shoulders. And he could, to pardon the phrase, kill two birds with one stone and observe the healer to increase his own meager knowledge. "I found an injured falcon. I wanted to help her but I am afraid my own skills are just not trained enough. Would you be able to help her?" The stolid grey yearling's features took on a pleading cast, blue eyes alternating between the healer and checking on the watchful, fierce falcon. "She has a puncture wound between her shoulder and wing, it's between the muscles so it didn't damage much, and the cuts on her chest are deep but don't hit anything vital. The problem is that everything is infected and I don't know how to treat infections." He ended his explanation apologetically, feeling strongly that he was letting them both down by not having worked harder to expand his knowledge before now.

LORD, I AM CLIMBING HIGH MOUNTAINS TRYING TO GET HOME Trying to get home...   Lyndvarr eyed the feathered creature, taken aback for a moment. This boy wanted him to heal the bird? Hmmm…. his brow furrowed. "Well, I could give it a try but I've never tended to a bird before." Dosing might be difficult if he used anything but the mildest herbs. The bird was smaller even than the average pup and Lyndvarr's specialty was battlefield medicine not pediatrics. This was going to be tricky. Lyndvarr listened intently as the boy listed off her wounds and he nodded, he could smell the infection from here. "I see, can you clean the gunk away from the wounds? I'll be right back with some herbs. I saw some Eldrun not from here and I have yarrow and white sage with me." He'd been hunting for ginseng as well but so far he hadn't had any luck and he rather doubted he was going to get that lucky so he'd stick with what he knew was available. Lynd traced his steps back to the Eldrun plant, gazing up at it's foilage. He supposed it was more commonly called Elder here or Elderberry. He hoped the spirit that dwelled within the plant would not mind him taking some of her berries. His hind legs coiled beneath him as he leapt up, snatching a frond of elderberries from the great bush. He was fairly certain the bird would be able to eat the berries. Trotting swiftly to where he'd been setting his herbs before he'd gotten distracted by the willow tree he laid the berries on top of the pile of plant material before nuzzling the corners of the hide together and scooping it up in his mouth. Swiftly he returned to boy and bird and unwrapped his treasures. He plucked the berries off the top and set them aside before digging through the other plants. Marshmallow? No. Lady's Slipper? Also a no. Ahhh here it was. Gingerly he pulled out a few pieces of yarrow and white sage. "When you're finished can you go gather some pieces of moss and clean them while I tend to her?" He realized it was probably a bit to ask for the boy to trust him with the bird but honestly Lyndvarr was well-fed and not interested in anything so covered in feathers when there was game around far easier to eat.