Lia struggled with the wild lands of Boreas. She missed home, even knowing she didn’t fully belong there. Not as she had, a whisper of a person. She didn’t realise how much soul searching would hurt. Both mentally, and physically. She was used to a lack of support, being a slave most of her life had ensured that. But perhaps she had started to get accustomed to it - just a little - within the Hallows.

She had attempted to chase a rabbit through the stone steppe, and knocked her head against a low hanging and crumbling piece of stone wall. The bang had been a hard one, and she found it difficult to stop the blood in such an awkward place on her body. She knew she needed stitches, but she wasn’t sure she could manage it on a part of her body she couldn’t even see. She rested with her back against a stone wall, holding a piece of cloth to her head. Hoping the flow of blood would stop. That stitches would be unnecessary.


Speech

He was careful as he crossed Boreas, and made his way north. Careful as he could be, at least. There was no denying that he’d freeze or starve if things went south. Not the most robust of his litter, that was for sure. Still, his mother’s viking blood was still hot in his veins, and that was enough. What he lacked in size, he made up for in spirit. He’s still her son, after all this time and always. Through the cold, Ivy trekked. It was almost peaceful, alone aside from his companion.

The Steppe was quiet, though he’d be stupid not to realize that he wasn’t alone. On a stiff breeze, Ivy caught it. The scent of blood. He was careful, thoughtful as he attempted to track the direction. A wolf was bleeding, but why? Who? How? Was there danger here? In his mind, likely no more than anywhere else.

As he neared the source, he called out. Better now than not at all, right? “Hello?” His voice rich, tone soft. “Are you alright?” Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s something he can do something about. He’d have to see.

She pulled the cloth away and examined it. The blood was still bright, fresh. She sighed and placed it back against her forehead. Soon, she was going to have to give up waiting and do her best to patch it. She had some training in healing, and it wouldn't be the first time she had patched herself up. But the head was always tricky. She also thought she might have a concussion, so holding a steady paw as she worked was going to be difficult.

As she considered her option, a voice called out. Clearly the scent of blood had attracted then. A predator. She shrunk further against the stone, wondering if the shadows cast by the crumbling building would protect her. But if he had the scent of her blood in his nostrils, a little shade wouldn't keep her safe.

She thought of another time, and another wolf that had taken advantage of her. She felt her pulse quicken. She wasn't sure she could stop him, but she wasn't going to make it any easier, either. She cringed in the shadows, hoping something would distract him, or lead him away.

Speech

No answer came to his question. Ivy should have stopped to consider, but he couldn’t be convinced to do even that. The scent of blood was too fresh to be something already dead, but maybe they were unconscious. He needed to at least get. a look at whoever it was, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He just… needed to. Ivy had to do it. He moved forward on confident, curious paws.

As he surveyed the area, Ivy could see something move in the shadows. A glimmer, the reflection of light on glossy eyes or a white marking. In direct, full view of the shadows, he sat on his haunches. He would sit here and he would watch intently. Someone was here. Ivy was here. He had all the time in the world to wait.

She listened in silence, holding the cloth to her head still as she waited. Minutes passed her by. One lot, and then another. She breathed shallowly, hurting and trying not to let it show. She felt cramped as well, crouched as she was in the shadows. She needed to move, but she didn’t know if it was safe. Surely whoever had called out was gone by now. But she couldn’t chase out the vision of a wolf crouched just out of sight, waiting for her to let her guard down.

But why would they wait so patiently? She wasn’t going to put up much of a fight, wounded as she was. Or… with the lack of training she had. The silence was getting to her, and she started to wonder… could the voice have been a result of the concussion? Perhaps she was hurt worse than she realised. She lifted the cloth from her head again. It was still bleeding, and her vision was cutting out at the edges. She needed to stop the blood, or she was going to be in serious trouble. Hullucation, or real? She needed to make a choice. Making choices had never been her strong point… another set of minutes ticked by as she sat there. Frozen in indecision. Long enough that the choice was taken from her. With the sound of a soft sigh, she collapsed in on herself, the cloth falling from her unconscious paws, and the blood running freely into the grass.

Speech

Minutes passed, and she didn't come out. Was she afraid? Maybe. While Ivy wasn't the most imposing creature, he was also not the most normal looking. That made sense in his mind, or at least, he'd come up with a story to rationalize it. He'd come up with it, and yet... shit. There was the sound of something collapsing to the ground. A sound that made some of the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a passing breeze carrying the blood scent much more strongly now. That couldn't be good.

"Hey..." Ivy finally spoke. "Fuck," he hissed, realizing that she really wasn't moving. He couldn't just leave her here, feeling some kind of responsibility for her. He closed the gap on graceful, deft paws. Peering into the shadows, she finally comes into focus. A girl, a pretty girl, and she really wasn't moving. From what he could tell she was still breathing, so that was a plus. The wound on her head looked pretty nasty though, and Ivy sighed softly.

The scrap of cloth wouldn't do, but it was what he had for now. "Some moss or something soft, but not gross," he directed Cami, taking up the scrap of bloodied cloth and pressing it to the wound. He needed to stop the bleeding and tend to the wound as best he could... some sort of internal healer's code. He couldn't say exactly why, but there's something honorable in there. Somewhere.

Cami dropped a large piece of relatively clean looking moss, along with a scavenged porcupine quill. She wasn't wrong, he'd probably have to stitch the wound. Likely wouldn't be the prettiest job, but Ivy didn't need to deal in pretty. Gently, he swapped the sopping piece of cloth for a patch of moss, pressing down in a effort to relieve the bleeding.

"Speech"

Her dreams were strange things. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, with strange images waffling past her peripheral. She could see her dad… It had been a long time since she had thought about him. Then she saw the castle, and Art and Briar. The kindest wolves she had known. Wait… was she seeing her life? Flashing before her eyes? The thought shocked her so much she woke right up.

Right into the sight of a dark toned wolf leaning over her. She yelped in surprise at the sight of him. Her eyes slashing across his pretty blue eyes and markings as soft as starlight. Oh, maybe she should have stayed asleep. She closed her eyes, but nothing happened. She winced, and cautiously opened one eye. Yeah, the wolf was still there. Holding her, kind of, and tending to her wounds. Would he be tending her wounds if he meant to kill her? Her head was still pounding, and rational thought was difficult. “Where am I?”


Speech

Ah shit, it really seemed she was out cold. Ivy grumbled softly to himself, still applying pressure to the wound. He’d become more gruff in his time alone, but there was still the sensitive boy under everything. Soft boy, heart of a lion and all. The yelp was enough to startle him, eyes going wide. She was awake. She was awake? So it seemed. Good to know that she wasn’t dead, especially on his watch. That would be guilt he couldn’t handle right now. “Don’t move too quick, think I’ve almost gotten the bleeding under control.” His tone was gentle, despite the rough nature of his voice. So much time without speaking would do that to a man.

She asked where they were, and it took him a moment to consider. “The northeast of Boreas,” it’s a straightforward enough answer. The name of this place? Truthfully, Ivy couldn’t quite remember. He’d been adrift for too long, and managed to lose track. “What happened?” A fair question, in his mind. Though he’s on the smaller side, Ivy is comfortable holding her well enough to tend to the wound, and certainly not shy about it.

He told her not to move, and she held still. Breathing shallowly at the wolf inches from her muzzle as he finished tending to her wound. She still felt light headed, and she knew she would need to eat and drink to replenish the blood she had lost. A shame she was a lousy hunter, that was going to make it all the harder.

“Oh, right. The Stone Steppe.” She said, remembering where she had fallen over. He asked her what happened and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I was chasing a rabbit. I… tripped.” She admitted. Falling into a familiar rhythm of answering any question asked of her. Some habits were hard to die, and especially now while she was injured and out of it…


Speech

The proximity to someone else should have made him uncomfortable, but there were probably at least a dozen social cues that Ivy failed to pick up on. He’d become a recluse and a hermit before the age where such things were acceptable, and maybe that made him a bit strange. Stone Steppe, that sounded about right… he’d really made it this far already? How long had Ivy even been traveling at this rate? Did any of that matter anymore? He pushed the questions from his head.

Hunting accident. That made sense in his mind. “Are you on your own?” She couldn’t hunt in this state. Judging by the severity of the wound, Ivy could only guess she had a concussion too. If she was alone out here, he couldn’t see things going all that well for her. Though direct, his curiosity isn’t unkind. As he lifted the chunk of bloodied moss from her head, Ivy noted that it was still oozing blood. Cami dropped a sticky chunk of pine bark in the snow to his side, and he glanced up to nod once in her direction. “I don’t have the supplies to stitch it up, but some of the pine resin should hold it closed well enough… but it won’t be comfortable, at least until it’s dry.” Ivy’s tone was apologetic. Uncomfortable was an understatement, but it was the best he could do out here