Comforting silence emanating from the surrounding woods, shrouding the pair in a calm that deepened as the distant sun continued its decline and slipped away beneath the barren canopy. The loss of radiant light, having burned the brightest only for an instant in defiance of its pull toward the earth, brought on the chill of night. The creatures that once stirred so alive and purposeful fell quiet to the haunting breath as it wisped through the trees whispering mournfully to the loss of day. But in this darkness birthed hope for light. The cycle of death and rebirth would flow seamlessly, continuously. What transpired in the day would fall away to memory in the night and once the resurrecting glow of the sun cast loving upon the land, a new life would be birthed, and with it a new opportunity. And for the possibility of what may come, the Nomad could smile fondly despite the witnessed transgressions of her friend. For the morrow offered a chance of understanding… of healing, for all those involved and not just the broken male sitting silently beside her.
To him, she turned her gaze, foregoing the sight of the emerging stars within their endless sea of velvet night. The stench of blood had gone stale but apparent and the cloud of self-loathing encompassing his form nearly kept her at bay. But for the sake of healing she crossed the suffocating threshold holding what breath her exhausted lungs could muster. “You will get infected if you are not treated,” the she-wolf explained quietly, already coming to settle on her belly beside her rescue and gently nudged him to unfurl with a heavy, albeit determined paw. “Allow yourself to rest while your wounds are cleaned,” she instructed. “Unless you want to rot and make a winter meal for the scavengers.” To this, the woman smiled softly, hoping a little jest would ease the young male’s discomfort. “It will not hurt.”