Voron had caught his scent just as she was leaving her house to go hunting. She immediatly recognized it as the wolf who had taught her low speech, and decided to go see if he needed something. Seeing as he was in another pack, any intrusion on Dahlian territory could be met with violence - most wolves that she knew wouldn't attack without questioning him first, but there was always a chance thr one of the more volitile members would find him.
The black furred female followed his scent, which was borne on a chilly breeze. She was in Lupus form, since it was her prefered hunting form, but she would easily shift if a reason became apparent for hands. After a few minutes of steady loping, she found him. She slowed down as she drew near, then stopped, her breath catching in her throat. The male was coveredbon cuts and scratches, including a large one on his chest. her mother's voice flashed through her mind, telling her all the things to do for a hurt wolf. Her eyes wide, Voron caught his attention and shouted out to him,
"Wait there, I'll be right back!" Then she turned and ran away, covering the ground back to her house in half the tine it had taken her before. While J'adore wasn't in danger of dropping dead right this second, she knew it was better to hurry. The faster the wounds were treated, the less likely the chance of infection and permanent scarring.
Voron had chosen her house - a beat up little stone cabin without a roof - for what it held inside. By chance she had come across it and chosen to spend the night. In the morning, she had explored it a little. It had only two rooms, and was very beat up. However, inside a broken cupboard she had found a satchel. And in that satchel had been all sorts of dried herbs. She recognized most of them and gratefully claimed it as her own. She had no idea what wolf had left them there, but wasn't about to turn down a free gift. This satchel is what she grabbed now, picking it up in her mouth then dropping it, realizing she'd need opposable thumbs for this healing. Voron shifted, taking more time than she would have liked, but it couldn't be helped. Panting, the she-wolf grabbed the bag and ran out the door; back to J'adore.
When she reached the male, she saw that he had attempted - and failed - to bind his wounds. She kneeled down beside him, looking him over. "I can help you," she said. She was actually a little excited to help him, she loved healing. It made her feel useful.