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Ithiel is by Raze!
The dust-furred coyote listened for the sounds of battle and heard nothing. There was only an eerie stillness, the quiet in the woods after such a fight. All the small creatures had been driven away -- no songbirds crooned and no crows cackled. This was better than the alternative, however: the clashes of blades, the cries of the dying were things Ithiel did not wish to hear, and he was relieved by their absence.
Lystra bled, but otherwise seemed hale -- she did not favor any of her feet and her gait was not impeded in the least, which was good. A broken foot usually maimed a horse for life, Ithiel had always heard, though he had never paid it any mind until actually owning a horse, and had never believed it until he'd heard it from a trustworthy mouth -- namely, Myrika's. The dusky coyote's red eyes perceived Myrika and Vesper, both of them bloodied. The Caelum lifted one hand, the uninjured shoulder, and tried to bid them not to rush on his account.
Though his leg felt awful, the dust-furred coyote knew it was not broken or sprained. He was not worried about his own injuries, and made this plain as the women approached. Are you two okay? Is he dead? Mine got away, the coyote said, his muzzle wrinkling in frustration as he said this last.
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