I FEEL THE LOVE
It surprised Enkiel that the coyote would move in his condition. Especially given his age—though he did imagine that had something to do with it. Frowning, he continued to dig through the bag. The jackal did not carry a large amount of supplies with him. Luckily, he had always been equipped with the basics as far as wound-treatment.
A small jar of dark green, crushed up leaves was drawn. He studied the bad leg and looked up to the older male sharply. “That hardly looks deep enough to warrant stitches,” though it would certainly scar. He grabbed a handful of the crushed leaves and chewed them diligently, ignoring the taste, before putting the mixture on the wound. He held onto the coyote’s paw strongly, with the other hand reaching for a pack of gauze stolen from the mansion. Silently, he began to wrap his foreleg—tight enough to slow the bleeding.
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