06-17-2009, 09:20 PM
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500+
The Cercelee seemed to respond to that gentle touch that was given. The warrior did not yet know how severe the wounds would be. She knew only that already the diamond male had lost much blood and that it was necessary to help him immediately. The Rosea rose, leading the bleeding council member into the church that was shared by both of the wolves. The Warrior followed from the rear, closing the door quietly as she remembered the pups that should still be sleeping within. Once inside, the warrior’s gaze swept over the place she had never seen, but she marveled only momentarily at the strange place of a god that she did not worship before she had followed the white leader into a dark room. The woad marked female paused at the door, allowing the woman to lead her mate to the bed. The quiet female did not want to intrude in a place that was so private.
The white Rosea seemed more collected now, but the warrior knew that she would be less certain beneath the calm exterior. The black female was still a naturally timid creature, and she did not want to intrude upon any circumstance. She did not want to interrupt Cercelee’s need to heal the male that she loved; she would have been fine leaving had the Rosea asked. But instead, the warrior simply stood there, perhaps even awkwardly, her eyes wandering to the wounded male that her father had attacked. And she watched momentarily as Cercelee began to tear the sheets, but when the silence was broken, the woman felt that it was okay to enter the room. Stepping in quietly, the woman walked over to where Slay was laying. Carefully, the warrior ran her hand through his fur, finding the many cuts and gashes. But all of them were superficial as if Corvus had taken care to muss this male enough to simply bleed to death. "I don’t think any stitching will be required," the alto voice assured quietly. As the Rosea approached with the strips of cloth that had been torn, the white orbs looked up.
A quiet smile flickered across her maw in the dark room. "Of course," the woman replied, and reached for some of the cotton strips. She started on one of the wounds upon his chest, though there were many upon his neck and some on his face. Deftly, the warrior, who was familiar with wrapping wounds (although she never did wrap her own wounds), began to securely bind the wounds, weaving them occasionally so that they would stay and tying them when she reached the end of the strip. When black warrior paused for a moment, looking up to the blue eyed Rosea who worked diligently upon he rmate. "I’m sorry that this happened, Cercelee," the soft melody apologized as if this were somehow her fault. Over and over again, she knew that it was not her fault. But it was her presence that drew the crow wolf near, and it was her resistance to him that moved him to attack this wolf. "I did not mean for this to happen." She had not expected the crow wolf to have found her.
500+
The Cercelee seemed to respond to that gentle touch that was given. The warrior did not yet know how severe the wounds would be. She knew only that already the diamond male had lost much blood and that it was necessary to help him immediately. The Rosea rose, leading the bleeding council member into the church that was shared by both of the wolves. The Warrior followed from the rear, closing the door quietly as she remembered the pups that should still be sleeping within. Once inside, the warrior’s gaze swept over the place she had never seen, but she marveled only momentarily at the strange place of a god that she did not worship before she had followed the white leader into a dark room. The woad marked female paused at the door, allowing the woman to lead her mate to the bed. The quiet female did not want to intrude in a place that was so private.
The white Rosea seemed more collected now, but the warrior knew that she would be less certain beneath the calm exterior. The black female was still a naturally timid creature, and she did not want to intrude upon any circumstance. She did not want to interrupt Cercelee’s need to heal the male that she loved; she would have been fine leaving had the Rosea asked. But instead, the warrior simply stood there, perhaps even awkwardly, her eyes wandering to the wounded male that her father had attacked. And she watched momentarily as Cercelee began to tear the sheets, but when the silence was broken, the woman felt that it was okay to enter the room. Stepping in quietly, the woman walked over to where Slay was laying. Carefully, the warrior ran her hand through his fur, finding the many cuts and gashes. But all of them were superficial as if Corvus had taken care to muss this male enough to simply bleed to death. "I don’t think any stitching will be required," the alto voice assured quietly. As the Rosea approached with the strips of cloth that had been torn, the white orbs looked up.
A quiet smile flickered across her maw in the dark room. "Of course," the woman replied, and reached for some of the cotton strips. She started on one of the wounds upon his chest, though there were many upon his neck and some on his face. Deftly, the warrior, who was familiar with wrapping wounds (although she never did wrap her own wounds), began to securely bind the wounds, weaving them occasionally so that they would stay and tying them when she reached the end of the strip. When black warrior paused for a moment, looking up to the blue eyed Rosea who worked diligently upon he rmate. "I’m sorry that this happened, Cercelee," the soft melody apologized as if this were somehow her fault. Over and over again, she knew that it was not her fault. But it was her presence that drew the crow wolf near, and it was her resistance to him that moved him to attack this wolf. "I did not mean for this to happen." She had not expected the crow wolf to have found her.