With the help of his mother, Enigma and his group as well as the yearling who wished to help instead of harass, moved away from the ogling, unfriendly stares of the old hag and her old boyfriend. The Donostrea wolves were nearby, graciously offering to take them back to their lands to reunite with the younger siblings that currently resided there. It was painful, but he wanted privacy for when Tornach mended him. He didn't care much for the timber femme or her companion, they sat on their high horses like they were better then everyone else. As if they were entitled to everything that they were not. He merely sneered at them, refraining from saying more because Tornach had requested it of him. His mother helped him lie down in a soft patch of grasses, an old goose nest by the looks of it. Painfully, the male settled down, anger subsiding slightly now that he wasn't being heckled. He was glad to see his mother was safe, though there had been plenty of maims, she was alive and at his side. Xephyris seemed well enough, despite the bleeding that plagued his comrades lips. A soft sigh passed his own lips as he settled his head on his forepaws, the adrenaline was moving on, and he hoped the yearling could help him enough to at least make the journey to Donostrea. "Listen to me talk," 'and know my thoughts.'

At last they had gotten away from that tense gathering, at least far enough that the cranky older wolves were not glaring directly upon them. What a bunch of uptight jerks. Xephyris had only come to the west because this was where Sin had chosen to settle his pack. Personally, he had no knowledge of any loners residing permanently here, but even if he had, it wouldn't have made a difference. He'd have gone anywhere the pack went, and if they were strong enough to take territory, then so be it. There was a reason why living in a group had its benefits. Living the lone life, a wolf or two could not reasonably expect to hold down a territory, and there certainly wasn't anything they could do about it if a pack decided to settle. It was just the way it was. Strength in numbers.

Gathering close around the wolves he knew, he waited for the healer to work his magic. Or at least do the best he could. He didn't want to admit that he needed fixing up, but the lacerations on his muzzle were quite deep and beginning to get sore as they scabbed over. It would do him good to heal up quickly and gain back his strength.

He was troubled, as he waited for privacy to fall around the small group. Not because he was essentially alone now with a group of wolves that had garnered a less than savory reputation for themselves, though he was aware of the risk he was taking. No, he was concerned with his mother and the seemingly irrational hatred she held for these wolves she'd never met before today. It wasn't healthy, and he wondered if it would be out of bounds for him to speak with his father about it...

Of the three enemy wolves, the young white male was the worst off from bloodloss, and would need to be tended immediately, but the white male's mother was not much far behind. "Can you clean around her wound please, so that I can see it?" he requested softly of the gray male with the facial wounds, before turning his attention to the white male. "May I examine you now? What's your name anyway?" he asked conversationally, to keep the male's attention as he frantically dug through his memory to think how best to proceed with no herbs and no formal training. He glanced around, his eyes finally lighting on a hazelnut tree and lit up. Of course! Hazelnut poultice for the wounds, and the willow tree would provide a pain reliever, even if it was mild... It wasn't much, but it was something, so if he could just stop the bleeding he could make sure all three of them would make it to a real healer.

The pain was growing, the adrenaline wearing off. Enigma's eyes narrowed as he bit back the desire to whine with the pain that was consuming him. Gods it sucked without painkillers...he only hoped this boy could help him. When Tor asked if he could be examined, Enigma would nod as he painfully shifted to allow the male to examine him...while he would never be the same physically, it wouldn't change who he was. As Tor asked for his name, Enigma debated telling him his alias, or trusting him and telling him his real name. His one concern was whether or not this kid would tell his mother who he was so that she might use it against him, but...Tor didn't seem to hold the same hatred that the older wolves bore. "My name is Enigma. Thanks...for your help, I mean." Amber gaze sought his, a hint of worry mixed with pain and hesitance reflected. Could he trust him? He supposed he'd find out.

Arietta felt a little more at ease now that the older wolves were not looming over them spewing threats. One should never kick a man when he was done, at least that was what Arietta believed. Of course she was a bit biased however. The one who had been hit hardest was her son. Her baby. Forsaken had not been there to help his brother and honestly that frustrated the woman. She could understand her youngest litter being away in Donostrea, too small to fight... But ‘saken? Was he truly a coward at heart? The femme would keep herself settled upon the earth, her good eye focused on her son. The other was squeezed tightly closed, fresh blood around it. She was fairly sure the eye itself had been damaged by the pain she had -- even if she couldn’t open it right now. She was glad that the young healer had taken hold of the situation... Though she wasn’t exactly eager to have her would cleaned. She’d glance at Xeph with an apologetic look. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind being saddled with the task.

He was surprised when his assistance was requested in cleaning Arietta's wounds so that the healer could tend to it. Wasn't that the job of the healer? He supposed though that the boy had his work cut out for him already, and he offered his help when he didn't need to; in fact, they were quite a lucky bunch to have the attention of any healer, especially the attention of one who's mother would probably rather see them dead. There was no reason Xephyris couldn't give him a hand and try to make things easier on the boy. Thus, he nodded to Tornach before turning to Arietta, wondering what she thought. Her look was an apologetic one. The man shrugged and moved toward her. "This is gonna be weird for both of us," he murumured, trying not to make eye contact. For several awkward moments he stood close to her, mere inches away, examining the wound on her face and wondering how he should go about it.

It seemed there would be no easy or pleasant way to do this, so he simply reached toward the left side of her face with his muzzle and let his tongue wash over the fur of her face. He washed away what he could of the blood, some of it dried, some still fresh. It was a strange thing to taste the blood of a comrade, blood he hadn't sought with his own fangs. He was careful not to be rough nor touch the eye directly. Damn, it's good to be a fighter, not a healer, he thought, slightly disgusted by the task he'd been given, Who can do this for a living? He'd been made to rip and tear flesh apart, to draw fresh blood, not to mend and fix the wounds once they'd been dealt. Still, he would say nothing about his displeasure with the task, merely carry on until he was sure the wound was cleared up enough for Tor to give it a look over.

"How's that?" he asked Arietta, wondering if it felt any different. Of course, he was sure that the pain in her wrecked eyeball was casting a cloud over most other sensations. Mostly he just wondered if it was good enough so that he could stop licking her face. Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so awkward for him if he knew her better, or if he knew she wasn't Sin's mate. He didn't particularly like getting up close with someone he wasn't familiar with, but alas, it was all for the good of their healing process after this battle. Sitting back, he waited for the boy to look over Enigma, wondering if he'd be called upon again to help. Please no... please tell me you can heal Enigma's wounds on your own, he thought with a passing shudder. Though he was unwilling, he would do what he had to in order to get them all healed up, and he wouldn't resist any commands given to him, even if he despised it all the same.

It was as he'd feared - whoever had wounded Enigma had done so quite thoroughly, though mercifully cleanly. If the wounds had been any more jagged, the trauma to the surrounding tissue worse... But how do you explain to someone that they would never be able to father children? He didn't know how aware of the extent of the damage Enigma might be, or if the pain might mask it, but he couldn't risk leaving him in the dark about what to expect. Tornach wasn't even old enough to have children himself - to have to break that news to someone else sparked a hint of anxiety within him. Steeling himself he sighed, and spoke the words quietly, seeking to keep it for Enigma's ears alone though he could not guarantee that the close quarters would not allow a sharp-eared individual to pick it up. "I'm sorry Enigma - no matter what I do, I can't... You're never going to be able to father children. That isn't to say you won't be able to... do things, you'll still be able to..." he hastened to add, and winced at the subject. "I'm sorry." He glanced back towards the hazel tree, standing proudly among the willows. He'd need a moment to harvest the bark from both trees, and maybe he'd be able to find another herb or two that he recognized. "I need you to clean the wound," he instructed Enigma softly. He wouldn't subject the other wolf to the indignity of having someone else do it after having just been given bad news. "I'll be right back with something for the pain." He turned to trot towards the trees, leaving Enigma to absorb the news.