His return to the ranch had been a slow one, two-legged and leisurely as thoughts plagued his mind and distracted the sight from his eyes. The world was still spinning much too fast for him to keep up with, and it was inevitable that the beast was dizzy and overwhelmed from recent events. He needed sleep, but sleep held him at arms' reach; his nights were filled with thoughts, meandering through his mind to try and connect more and more dots now that more of the puzzle pieces had been set into place. He knew what he was. ...His pack did not.
As he neared the ranch, the distinct of smell of blood caught him off guard; due to the smell's proximity to the ranch, he immediately panicked, suddenly forgetting the ceaseless worries of recent days to hasten his pace and fist his hands. Jefferson feared that Addison had been hurt--actually, the "parent's" first (and worst) fear was that she'd been killed somehow--but following the stench brought him towards the barn, where a couple spooked animals gaped at him from the field. Naturally, this did not put him at ease, but a few stray silver furs in the small globs of blood gave him a sigh of relief; he could summarize what happened. In seeing the trail of scarlet that lead up into the ranch, the cyclops breathed a sigh of relief and worked his way inside, to find his pain-in-the-ass subleader frantically working over a wound on his arm.
"DaVinci? What happened?" The Patriarch said slowly, and was met with a dizzy, whirling gaze that was the obvious result of blood loss. Jefferson scowled and quickly moved forward, removing the damp cloth from his comrade's grasp and immediately taking over for him. "Put your head on the table," he commanded. "Try to relax or you'll pass out from the blood loss." Idiot.