09-29-2012, 09:18 AM
The storm had been raging for days, at times building steadily and at times providing gusts worthy of an entire flock of massive birds all taking off into the sky at once. The world seemed much less organised than any group of avians Everly had seen, though – debris flying, as if fallen trees and floods weren't satisfactory obstacles. The weather had lost its mind, and occasionally the beige and brown Kunikoti wondered if her grip on her own faculties was slackening. She was beginning to consider the idea that she'd actually brought the hurricane with her.
Head bowed, with a deep scowl on her face, Everly fought against the wind, wishing it was more like branches which could be ducked and dived between rather than an all-encompassing pressure. The hurricane was toying with her fur, her senses and her balance but the woman's jaw was set in an expression of unyielding determination. With every lull in the gale she took a carefully placed step, her arms tightening around her precious load: armfuls of spongy moss wrapped around bundles of herbs and a reel of tough vines looped over her upper arm and shoulder. As yet Everly didn't know exactly what she'd need, when she'd need it, or whether her fellow AniWayans would think her a bit behind the times using natural remedies where cloth and rope could have been used in their place. But she knew and trusted these things, and no injured wolf needed a medic who wasn't confident in their tools.
The Town Hall looked like a safe haven, but when Everly neared the building, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, she picked up the scent of blood. Her nose wrinkled automatically as she hurried inside, hawk like eyes scanning the space for the injured party.
It didn't take long to spy the flame-haired man, propped up against a wall. A couple of red marks adorned his body but the modifications weren't studied in detail. Everly's gaze zeroed in on the tear above his elbow, the crimson stains of seeping blood. Everly's bare paws whispered against the floor as she crossed towards him and knelt at his side, slipping into a mindset where pleasantries ranked below immediate action. A gentle but firm hand cupped the bleeding wolf's elbow. ”Room spinning a bit?” she asked, her tone almost conversational, although the intent behind the question was serious – shock was a dangerous thing. Deft fingers tore a section of moss from the improvised first aid kit. ”Pressure.” Everly's voice was almost vague but her movements as she moved to press the porous plant to the wound had purpose and intensity. In working mode Everly was focused and confident, firmly within the bubble of her mission – to stem the bleeding. Within that space names were an afterthought. ”I'm Everly, the new Kunikoti.”
(474 words)
Head bowed, with a deep scowl on her face, Everly fought against the wind, wishing it was more like branches which could be ducked and dived between rather than an all-encompassing pressure. The hurricane was toying with her fur, her senses and her balance but the woman's jaw was set in an expression of unyielding determination. With every lull in the gale she took a carefully placed step, her arms tightening around her precious load: armfuls of spongy moss wrapped around bundles of herbs and a reel of tough vines looped over her upper arm and shoulder. As yet Everly didn't know exactly what she'd need, when she'd need it, or whether her fellow AniWayans would think her a bit behind the times using natural remedies where cloth and rope could have been used in their place. But she knew and trusted these things, and no injured wolf needed a medic who wasn't confident in their tools.
The Town Hall looked like a safe haven, but when Everly neared the building, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, she picked up the scent of blood. Her nose wrinkled automatically as she hurried inside, hawk like eyes scanning the space for the injured party.
It didn't take long to spy the flame-haired man, propped up against a wall. A couple of red marks adorned his body but the modifications weren't studied in detail. Everly's gaze zeroed in on the tear above his elbow, the crimson stains of seeping blood. Everly's bare paws whispered against the floor as she crossed towards him and knelt at his side, slipping into a mindset where pleasantries ranked below immediate action. A gentle but firm hand cupped the bleeding wolf's elbow. ”Room spinning a bit?” she asked, her tone almost conversational, although the intent behind the question was serious – shock was a dangerous thing. Deft fingers tore a section of moss from the improvised first aid kit. ”Pressure.” Everly's voice was almost vague but her movements as she moved to press the porous plant to the wound had purpose and intensity. In working mode Everly was focused and confident, firmly within the bubble of her mission – to stem the bleeding. Within that space names were an afterthought. ”I'm Everly, the new Kunikoti.”
(474 words)