Heat. Burning, unbearable heat. It slid through Valor's veins like liquid fire. The brutes jaws parted and he panted harshly, lungs heaving to try and cool off his big body. The man's mind was fuzzy. He was thickly in the throes of a fever and it was getting to the point where he'd begun to hallucinate. Creatures peeked out of the long grass. Wolves dead and gone urged him to continue down a well worn path ahead of him. 'To the castle' they said. 'Follow the lights.'

Up ahead, Valor could see flickering lights. Torches? Bonfires? Orange and gold eyes, the same shade as the dancing flames in the distance, squinted as he looked towards a large structure in the distance. 'There. Go there!' the dead wolves urged him on. His breath coming quickly, Valor continued on.

Each step was a victory. Spots of black and white had begun to flash behind the brute's eyes and he didn't think that he was going to make it. The wound in his side ached and seemed to have it's own pulse. He could smell the wound, acrid and rotten. The pitfall that he'd fallen into had been lined with sharpened stakes. One had taken the dire giant in the side, sinking into his flesh and sliding between his guts. It didn't feel as though anything major was punctured, but he was no healer.

Valor barely made it to the border between the plains and the castle lands when his footing faltered. The midnight wolf crashed face first into the earth with a whine of exhaustion and pain. The wound was going to be the death of him. He knew it. Sides still heaving wildly in panic and pain, Valor's eyes were opened wide. He stared hard in the direction of the structure, willing someone, anyone, to find him.

"Valor"

Everything felt so still and quiet as she slowly padded along the edge of the castle grounds, her cloak pinned around her shoulders. Her head felt too light and empty without the tiara that had otherwise been a nearly permeant fixture on her crown for the last few years, but it didn't feel right to wear it any more. Even though her engagement and relationship had ended amicably and without many hurt feelings on either side, it was still a hard loss and a difficult adjustment. Before Ysmir she had been perfectly fine with spending most of her time on her and even with him in her life she had often kept to herself within the infirmary, burying herself in her work. She had no doubt that she would go accustom to that lifestyle once more, but for now as she forced herself to leave the castle and get some fresh air that loneliness was more noticeable than ever.

Her mint and lavender gaze was fixed on the ground in front of her as she walked, too lost in her thoughts to pay much attention to her surroundings... at least until the distinctly familiar scent of infected, festering flesh hit her nose. It made her stop and her attention snap up in an instant, her eyes scanning and looking for the source of it. It seemed too close to the castle to be an abandoned piece of prey left to rot by some other predator and as she focused in on the smell it was very obviously intermixed with the smell of another wolf. She began to trot forward toward the smell, but still didn't see who it was coming from until a pained whine cut through the silence of the empty plain and finally she noticed the dark shape slumped in the grass.

Gwyn picked up the pace and loped toward the stranger, her cape billowing around her. Now that she was closer she could make out the pale gray stripe down his back that led into a shortened tail and the mostly dark black and gray fur that covered most of his body. She came around to where he would be able to see her, meeting his wide eyed fiery gaze with her own, her brows furrowing with concern. The deep, sickly wound on his side wasn't difficult to see and her ears flicked with worry. "La dracu..." she muttered under her breath as she went to his uninjured side to try and help him up. Usually she would have her healing supplies with her wherever she went, but this was one rarity where she had been too in her own head to think to grab it. "Can you walk? I'm a healer, but all of my supplies are in the castle. Lean on me, I'll help you get there." He was larger than she was, matching Art's height from what she could tell with him laying down like this, but she was no delicate woman either and could at least help him along the short walk up into the castle.

"Gwynevere Carpathius"

He was dead. He was going to die out here in the middle of nowhere with ghosts and specters as his only company. 'She's coming!' one of the translucent bodies whispered excitedly. Another pained whine pulled from Valor as he tried to shift his head enough to see. The grasses parted and a woman came towards him. The cape about her shoulders made him instantly think that she was Death come to collect, but the concern in her mint and lavender eyes made him think otherwise. Surely Death would show no concern, right?

"An angel come to take me to the gates of heaven." he muttered in his feverish state. "Or perhaps to hell. The gods know that I haven't lived the best life." And then the angel spoke, her voice delicate and sweet. No, not Death. A goddess sent from heaven. She was beautiful; breathtaking even. There seemed to be a glowing aura about the fae, but that could have been the infection and fever. She deserved an aura, Valor thought, his mind muddled.

As the woman placed herself on his uninjured side, Valor did his best to get to his paws once more. Teeth grit hard until they squeaked against one another, but eventually he was upright. Just standing had taken all of his strength and he had to simply stand there for a moment, panting hard. The brute's husky, glacial tones came in between those harsh breaths. "Lead... the way... my angel." Valor was a man's man and would do his best to walk on his own, but even in his current state of delirium, he wouldn't turn down the press of a lovely woman's body against his own.

"Valor"

The injured man muttered something about her being an angel to take him to heaven or hell, but she was too focused on getting him up and into the castle to worry much about his delirious ramblings. She did make note of it though as another sign of just how badly off this brute was. She placed herself where he could lean onto her as he stood, noticing just how much effort it took to get him to that point. That was the problem with being as tall and heavily built as he was–when someone of his stature was injured it made it nearly impossible to move them without significant help. Luckily he managed to get onto his paws and she paused there, assisting him to make sure he didn't collapse to the ground once more as he panted and steadied himself until he told her to lead the way.

She gave a small nod and proceeded forward, trying to hurry him toward the castle while also moving slowly so he didn't lose his shaky footing. Even if she couldn't get him up onto a cot she would be content if they just managed to get to the infirmary without him collapsing. As she neared the gates at the front of the castle grounds, she tipped her head back to let out a low howl to her brother, alerting him that she was bringing in an injured stranger. Of course she knew the rules and that she shouldn't be bringing wolves into their territory without his permission, but on occasion she felt like she was allowed to make an exception for the sake of another's life. She refused to just sit by and wait for Art to reach the border only to waste precious time.

She paused and made sure he was stable enough to stand on his own for a moment while she stepped away to open the front door of the castle, holding it open for him as he stepped into the main entryway. Once the door was closed behind him she resumed her place at his side to continue leading him down the corridor to the infirmary. Helping to keep him upright was a workout in its own right, but somehow she managed and was able to walk him into the long room with rows of cots on either side. She brought him to the fireplace that took up a large part of the wall on the right side and had him lay down on the spread of furs that covered the floor in front of it. A low fire was burning in the hearth, spreading warmth throughout the room. She usually liked to have her patients laying on a cot when she was treating them, but in this case she knew it'd be nearly impossible to get him up onto a bed and it would probably benefit him to be closer to the fire.

Eilwen had already flown down from the rafters as soon as she walked in, the white raven picking up her usual tools and supplies and depositing them beside her with trips back and forth from her supply cabinet to where she was sitting next to her new patient. Blue scurried over from where he had been sitting near her desk, the lemur climbing up onto her shoulder with wide, blue eyes. Now that they were inside and by the firelight, she could better see the wound that was threatening his life. It was a nasty thing, that was for certain, and a frown crossed her lips as she examined it carefully with gentle, experienced paws. "What's your name?" she asked with a glance up toward his face while she poured a bowl of water and prepared her rags, medicines, and a needle and thread.

"Gwynevere Carpathius"

Time seemed to creep by and yet, the scenery changed in clips and snippets. Valor was having a difficult time staying conscious as the dark seraphim beside him aided his steps. He had faith. Faith that the ash marked angel would guide him to safety. Even as his vision blurred, the edges of his mind fraying away to black, he followed her. He would follow her into hell if she but led the way.

The change in lighting and the difference between stepping on grass and stepping on stone let Valor know that they had come inside the large structure. The lady led him into a room where a fire blazed low in the hearth. The furs before it looked so warm and inviting. It was as though the fae read his mind and led him directly to it. Another whine of pain eked out through a grimace as Valor lowered himself to the furs. Obsidian sides heaved as his breathing quickened. Would he die after all?

Fiery eyes closed though he tried hard not to fall asleep. Something told him that sleep would surely mean death. He was so very, very tired though... The voice of the cherubim drew him back from the brink of sleep and the brute's orange eyes opened once more. His name? "Valor," he replied simply. No surname or anything of the sort. Just Valor. "May I be so blessed as to learn the name of my savior, Seraphim?" If angels even had names that mortals could understand.

"Valor"