What followed her summon could only have been described as surreal. The smell of blood, the res stain upon the pure white snow was engraved in her memory, churning her stomach with discomfort as she could not rid her mind of the scene. Perhaps it made her appear cold to the eyes of her packmates, taking the Infernian aside instead of following the caravan to tend to her wounded friend. Her knowledge of the medicinal art was lacking, and through her panic she recollected this fact knowing that against her initial wants there was literally nothing she could do for the girl now. At least not in the sense to heal her wounds.
The Nomad was a pillar of silence as she ushered herself and Vesper away toward the thick of the Forest so find their seclusion and replay the terrible accounts that had befallen the coywolf and the arctic female. The Kozan couldn’t even think of the fallen girl now without seeing the horrendous red staining the purity of her coat. A fate underserved by one so kind and forgiving as her.
Memory of a reserve made just for herself in her early days within Ichika lead the pair deeper into the darkening midst of looming spires. Even with their canopies barren the thickness of their towering branches alone provided ample cover, shrouding the forest in haunting hues the further they delved into the ancient family. When at last they were brought to a fallen tree, its roots unearthed and stretching skyward in vain for by a sliver of protruding light, the woman paused before it marking their found destination with a careful depress to her knees while curling her agitated tail beneath her. Quietly she offered her paw for her student to relax as well and took the time to examine her as best she was able.
The idea that infection might have tainted Kiara’s purity was not taken with the same fear as was instilled by the victim and her savior. She was silent in her contemplation of this notion, offering no word of hope or comfort when it can plainly possible that it had occurred. But by this thought alone, an image of the violence was painted in her mind. Teeth…fangs…and blood. Her attacker had to have been ruthless and wild if her friend harbored fear that the wound girl would be turned. A soul of blatant disregard for the lasting consequences they could have burdened upon an innocent. “She could very well have been infected,” she began softly while taking a calming breath. “And if that is so, we can only offer our aid through that trying time and help her understand what has happened. But if she does not undergo a change, then we should be happy for her…. But none the less make the assailant responsible for setting her lift out of balance so violently.”
Again, X’yrin tried to breathe in the fragrance of the forest, seeking its earthy aroma touched by the crisp of winter to ease her raging spirit. To think so brashly would cost not only her, but the pack as a whole if she was not careful. She had to think this through rather than rush off with Hell licking at her heels. Above all, she needed to be calm. And so she breathed again, carefully settling her eyes upon the winter blues of her cherished friend. “Can you tell me what happened, Vesper?”