On his way out to Moontouched Cliffs, Bancha found himself thirsty and interested in exploring the plains a bit more. He wasn’t sure why they had been called Serpent Plains until he arrived, hopping up onto a boulder to achieve a better look. From what he could see, the river that wound through it to the rapids inside curved back and forth much like a snake. The real question was… Were there real snakes here too? His gaze flicked back and forth nervously, not wanting to encounter a potentially venomous one.

Scrambling down from the boulder, Bancha follows along the winding river, making sure to avoid the taller grasses that might actually hide him from view. He was a rather small wolf-dog after all! In his nervousness to avoid snakes, he is surprised to find a plant that would actually help if he were to be bitten by one. His eyes go wide, paws taking him through the damp dirt toward the plant commonly known as “Snake plant.” How aptly named!

1/3 Explore new land - Serpent plains
1/3 Gather an herb - Snake plant

Arató had traveled far, aimlessly following his whims for adventure. His tongue yo-yoed from between his teeth as he walked. The drool had stopped dripping from his maw and he could feel the tremors of dehydration creeping through his muscles. His stomach felt tight and empty, sunken up into his ribs. Despite the obvious fatigue of his body, his silver eyes remained fixed ahead, skittering curiously about his surroundings. He was not ready to give in to the fatigue yet.

The ground had grown wet beneath his paws and he could hear the quiet growls of a river not far ahead. He forced his ears to remain perked on his skull as he followed the sound around a moss-laden boulder. If he had he been in a better state, he might have smelled the other wolf he was approacing. Nevertheless, he only caught a glimpse of his company when he stepped down towards the muddy bank of the river.

Upon seeing the other young male, Arató let out an excited bark of greeting. His tail swayed eagerly behind him and he made to pick up a trot in the other wolfs direction. Despite his efforts, his legs fumbled over the wet ground and he tripped well enough to land him on his side in the mud. He did not immediately try to pick himself up, but instead tilted his head to peer in the direction of his company, hoping they had seen or hear enough of him to notice his presence. They appeared to be engrossed in a particular plant, yet Arató could not tell what the plant was.

The world around him blooms to life as he inspects the plant. A warm breeze flutters over his coat, bringing with it scents of prey and new life. Even the musk of a serpent catches Bancha’s attention, bringing his head up for a moment to glance around. There was yet to be a warning hiss so he paid the scent no mind for now.

Carefully, he snaps a few leaves off of the snake plant to store in a basket he’s borrowed. He’s unsure how exactly the plant can be used, but he knows who to ask. Topically would probably be best, but Bancha was often surprised by the ways of healing.

As he goes for a third leaf, the sound of paws draws his attention away. The soft thud of paw upon wet ground brings Bancha’s gaze to a male around his age that is worse for wear. Concern flickers over his expression as he watches in slow motion as the stranger slips and falls to the ground. A gasp leaves him as he quickly stashes his third leaf in the basket and begins to rush over. There’s no hesitation in him as he approaches, coming to stand beside the russet wolf.

“You alive?” Bancha questions first, eyes scanning the thin form of the wolf, watching for the movement of ribs and breath. “Does anything hurt?” He didn’t want to move the guy if his ankle was broken or sprained.

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The other wolf noticed his approach after all, and they didn’t hesitate to rush over to him where he lay. Aratós silver gaze hung on them with an excited intensity. They were a delicate sort of wolf, dare he even say pretty in their features. "I am alive,” he giggled, his tail thumping against the wet ground. He continued to rub the side of his face back and forth in the coolness of the mud. After a moment, he sneezed the dirt from his nose and lifted his soiled head. A momentary wave of vertigo blurred his vision, and a dry tongue slipped from his mouth once more as he panted.

Arató contemplated his company’s second question, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Pain was not something he had ever given much thought to. Dotting on such things usually seemed to be far too much of a distraction from life. “Hmm,” he hummed, pulling himself up so that he now lay on his stomach with his legs underneath him. He was sore, the muscles in his limbs pulling angrily at his bones. The empty pit of his stomach gnawed at his insides. His head pulsed with a dull aching. Yet, he did not think any of this was the pain the other wolf meant. Arató did not think he was injured. “No, nothing hurts”.

Arató crawled clumsily closer to the river, just enough that he could stretch his neck and lap at its waters. After a moment, he turned curiously to the young wolf with water and mud dripping from his muzzle. “What have you found, river gardener?” Arató gestured towards the basket in which he had seen the other wolf stowing the plant they had been fondling over moments before.

Bancha stares in wonder at the wolf. The way they behave is not what he was expecting for someone who appeared such as themselves. A sigh of relief does leave him as it is confirmed that the stranger is both alive and unharmed. His heart begins to slow, his breathing evening out as he takes a step back, giving the other boy room to move toward the river.

“It is okay if something does,” Bancha insists quietly, his curled tail hanging loose between his legs. Clearing his throat, he gives the other wolf a respectable amount of space as he watches him lap up the stream’s cool water. Taking a moment to glance around, he notices that they are still alone. Which isn’t entirely unusual, but for the time of day, he expected more animals to be in the area. From what he had noticed through his exploration, the scents and trails notified him that many called this place home. Was this home to the stranger?

Pulled from his thoughts at the boy’s question, Bancha smiles. “Ah, yes!” He exclaims before hurriedly turning around to go get his basket. Unsatisfied with the amount he had, Bancha quickly pulls a few more leaves from the ground and sets them with the others before taking them back. Placing the basket on the ground, he points a paw at the green and yellow striped leaves. “It is called Snake Plant. Deadly to ingest, but if you turn it into a salve or pulp, it’s said to heal snake bites if placed upon the bite,” Bancha is confident in his words as his tail begins to wag a little. He sure did enjoy talking about healing stuff!

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Arató couldn’t help the whine which escaped him as he watched the young male turn excitedly back to retrieve his findings. He knew the stranger intended to come back to him, yet he wanted desperately to follow after them. He would attempt to stand. However, having stopped the previous momentum of his body, the fatigue had rapidly caught up to him. His limbs shook beneath him and he took a single step forward before sinking back down to lie on his stomach with a huff of disapproval. Resigned to wait, he watched as the stranger gathered a bit more of the plant.

He strained to sniff at the basket as the other wolf returned and placed it on the ground. It didn’t smell too unusual, although the stripped pattern of the leaves was pleasantly unique. “Hmm,” he hummed, staring at the plant for a moment and marveling over what the stranger had told him. He thought it was strange that it might kill you from the inside, yet it might heal you from the outside. It was quite the opposite for snakes themselves, he had thought. Arató had gnawed on a snake or two in the past and had not been turned sick, but he knew the bite from a venomous one could be deadly. Slowly he began to mumble, “death and life in one. Pay the price by choosing. Careful now. Eat the serpent, just don’t get bit. Watch the herb, it is a trickster, see. Let it bite, but it chews to poison. Pay the price by choosing”. His words were quiet and breathy with exhaustion, uttered to no one in particular.

The battered boy finally turned back to his company, tail swaying back and forth atop the muddy ground. The stranger seemed rather happy to be talking about their harvest, and the pleasure they showed had only made Arató eager for more. He turned to scan the rivers edges while lifting his muzzle to test the air. “Are there other treasures here, gardener?” He was more familiar with the northern environments after all and didn’t know nearly enough about what grew here.

The mumbled words by the boy in the mud drew Bancha's brows together in confusion. It sounded, from what he could understand, more like a riddle than anything he was intentionally supposed to hear. At first, Bancha is unsure of the boy before him. Uncertain if the wolf is even okay. It seemed they were exhausted, emaciated, and heck even a little delusional. When was the last time they'd had a meal? Worry begins to crease over his expression as he notices the boy finally place his attention back to him.

As much as Bancha wants to show the stranger the gems and treasures of the plains they stand in, he's far too concerned now for this wolf's wellbeing. Bancha steps closer, head lowering closer to the ground so he can get a better look at the weary and weathered wolf before him. "I worry for your wellbeing," Bancha insists, his voice tender and soft, slightly strained as he hovers a few inches away. "When did you last eat? I can help," he urges, insistent that he heal this wolf instead of delaying the inevitable...

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