Word Count :: 300+
Liliya was shocked when a woman with fur the color of shaded slate rushed to her aid. She had been so absorbed with her work that she hadn’t even known the woman was nearby, and for a moment she forgot all about her pain. Although she was starting to think of the pack as family, sometimes it was the family you’d rather avoid. Being so low-rank in the pack made it quite inconvenient to be around others, often having to take valuable time away from her work for proper posturing and acknowledging of others’ ranks. At least now that she was becoming known to her pack and everyone knew that she gave the proper respect she had to spend lest time showing her subordinance and more time getting things done.
It only took a quick second to survey the woman while she spoke and surmise that they were equals. She came to her aid and gave her the choice, not demand. She didn’t automatically touch her. The girl even seemed a little shy… A trait Liliya once exhibited far more often than she did now. It made her smile.
And with the memory of her younger self came a surge of pain… but this wasn’t emotional pain, it was physical. She winced and looked down at her hand, her eyes flicking from the bandages to her bleeding palm. The blood was beginning to mat her fur.
“That vhould be very helpful, I think.” She nodded slowly, her gray eyes moving back towards the woman’s face and a small half smile played on her muzzle. “It burns like cheap vodka.”
She’d never gotten an injury this deep from working before – any cuts she’d received had been superficial scrapes – and she had no clue how to take care of it. She probably would have just washed it with sea water, used an old bandana, and been done with it. That probably wasn’t the best way to take care of a cut from a rusty nail.
“Vhat is your name, one who vhould help me?” She asked as she held her hand out to Odessa. “I am called Liliya Russo.”
Image courtesy of mnshots@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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