The trip from the red wood forest back to the Col was long and grueling as the healer and the slave pulled with Oso, Basilsiks's reindeer companion, the titan Warlord in the overladen cart.

Ignita helped Oleander to unload the warlord and somehow get him into his bed. The warlord certainly had it easier when he was carrying his slave after her accident. She would have no such luck in this matter. Oleander then directed her to unload the meat at the smokehouse and tuck the cart away. She went about the work with no further comment and he was alone with the warlord as Ollie tended his wounds.

He easily restitched the slash from earlier and placed a plaster of Arnica, Comfrey, and St. John's Wort over the blossoming bruise on Basilisk's head. He had a few other herbs steeping in a tea for him for when he came to. More arnica, some ginkgo leaves, and ginger would be in the tea for him to consume.

He had a hard time keeping Ignita busy and having her rest up for a few days as well, she wanted to be by Bas's side for some reason. He finally cleared her for working in the storeroom and anything else she could come up with to just keep her out of his fur.

Ollie would be changing his dressing over Bas's head every day and bringing him more tea.

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The next few days that passed were agonising in their slowness. Winter fell in full force over Boreas, and hunting became scarce as game moved South for the colder season. They may well be killing the goats that had been caught over Autumn just to get them through the winter. He had hoped to breed them first, but he wasn’t certain they would manage. When they did raid, his thoughts would be on procuring more food for his pack.

After two days of being bed bound, Basilisk decided enough was enough. When ollie came by to change the dressing on his forehead, Basilisk gave him a few growled wods. “I’m leaving the den today.” weather his healer liked it or not, there was too much to do, and he was too new to leading to remain still any longer


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Oleander arrived at the and den noted the fierce look on his cousin's face. Bas announced he was leaving the den today and Oleander lifted his brows at the intensity of the announcement that probably would have melted Ignita's face into a puddle. w

"Good, so you're well enough for some questions." Ollie wasn't phased at all as he approached the towering giant with saber teeth and saber claws. He removed the plaster of herbs from the warlord's head and looked carefully through his fur at the bruise. "I cleared Iggy for duty, she seemed more than well enough to get back to work after all that." The bruise was much better already thanks to the miracle of the arnica and comfrey.

"Can ya tell me how many handles on the basket I brought in?" He asked as he looked over Basilisk's stitches. The basket should have only one handle, but if he saw a ghost of a second one he wasn't going anywhere today. Some of the stitches were going to be a headache now for sure. A few spots were mildly infected along the great rip of his first polar bear fight. Ollie would dab at them with some tincture to clean them out but the stretching had torn the first set of stitches and made the second set a little more difficult to pull in and sew up.

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Basilisk hurrumped at the healer's nonplussed attitude. But he was well accustomed to Halo, who could be considered a push over in all aspects of life. Except when it came to healing. He’d been half raised by her, and respect for a healer was ingrained, even when he was sore and grumpy. “She can finally get the storeroom back together” he said, faint approval breaking through his grump.

“One.” Basilisk said confidently, glancing over at the basket in question. He slid slowly forward, partly out of his bed. Still giving Ollie space to look at the stitches on his shoulder, but also clearly indicating his intent. He was leaving this den today.


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The healer perked his white ears at the correct answer and nodded to himself.

The warlord slowly slid forward and Ollie knew he couldn't keep the beast down for much longer, but he did have something else in mind to chat about now that he wanted to get back to his duties.

"Alright alright! You're as bad as Ignita, she was constantly in here while you were out. I could barely get her out to do her own resting." He relented his observing, poking, and dabbing and began to pack up his tools back  in the basket, "How'd you come by her anyway? Could... Could I have one?" He asked lifting only his eyes to Bas, his nose still pointing to his tools.

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Basilisk couldn’t imagine Hazel was impressed with that, but was sure the two would have worked it out between them. He’d forced Iggy to rest for longer than he himself was now, but he saw no hypocrisy in that. As Ollie began to pack up, Basilisk slid all the way out of his bed and shook out his coat with a sigh.

He didn’t get any further than that before Ollie’s question caught his attention. He turned to the young healer and raised a brow, before he gave an amused smile. “Thinking an assistant would be helpful as a healer?” he mused, giving the idea some thought. “In your current rank, I would say no. The Trauma specialist would certainly be allowed such a perk, however.” He said thoughtfully, another little nudge to encourage the young wolf to reach for that rank. It was a great hitch that there was no one in the pack now to show him the ropes or assess him.


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Ollie turned fully toward the Warlord, a thin raggedy boy, not so far out of his puppyhood. He pulled a dark lip in through his teeth as he thought.

The vacancy gaped wide in the pack, and as far as he knew Zion, himself and Wylan were the ones interested in the arts of healing. They hadn't seen Crux around in a while.

"You've seen me fight some, you've seen my ability to heal. Shall I request the rank of Combat Medic first or should I reach for the stars and apply for the Trauma Specialist now?" It was bold, it was brash, he can chalk it up to young naivety to request such a rank now. He was eager to grasp at it if it afforded him some mobility and maybe he could even come with them on the raid. He probably needed more practice to prove himself to the others.

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Basilisk gave a quick, amused smile as the white wolf began to speak. “Good, Oleander, very good” He said approvingly. He wanted his wolves to want the higher ranks, and to reach for them. Seeing Ollie take the bold stance was something he approved of. Even if part of his reasoning was to get himself a slave. “You may apply for combat medic. I want you to put together battle-ready salves within the next week. Make the assumption that we would be raiding soon, and would need such a preparation” He ordered the white wolf.

While it would be hard for Basilisk himself to assess the potency of the salves, he decided he could use Marina to make a judgement call on them. He just wouldn’t tell the slave what they were for.

OOC: Healing level of advanced needed for combat medic


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