the cold, suffocating dark goes on forever
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For Cwmfen and later Bane. Set right after the Corvus fight not far outside Halifax.


I HOLD SECRETS FLAME


His numb feet stumbled through the cold, wet earth. The man had undone his scarf after the shadow had left him to bleed to death. He had bunched the fabric up and held it to his weeping wound. The skin and muscle where those dark jaws had clamped were shredded like paper. He had lost a lot of blood, doubtless leaving a crimson trail in the rain soaked mud. Blood dripping from the inside of his coat just as the rain dripped from the outside. His head was getting light and fuzzy and he could feel his vision begin to fade on him. Moving and making his blood leak from his body quicker wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't going to lie defeated on the ground, his life slowly leaving him.



Balance left him and he fell to the ground, free arm catching him, but weakly. Was this how it was going to end? Of course it would have happened in the damned woods. Not in a city where the things he needed to save his own life were accessible. Would his mission end here? In the cold rain? He had expected to die alone and unnoticed, but not this way. Not this soon. Suddenly his body was too heavy for him and he knew he would not rise again on his own. He would bleed here to death. This was the thanks he got for living his life as he had. Though he had never expected anything more.

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#2
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500+


Cwmfen walked in the dark, still utilizing that bipedal form as she moved beyond the boarders of Inferni. Her mind was disconcerted, lingering upon the memory of that white and black form. Corvus Vendetta. Why had Fate brought him to her if not to make her suffer? And for what? The warrior had lived her life without dishonoring the gods, and she had never betrayed herself nor the pack in which she lived. Or perhaps she had. Perhaps joining that entity that she so loved had inadvertently brought danger upon them. Whatever Corvus would do, she knew that he would find her, would discover that she lived within the boarders of Dahlia de Mai. The Adonis did not want to risk it, and yet, as the warrior she had become that night in Haku’s arms, the Raven Dreamer could not run, could not avoid the matter. She must act and act soon if anything were to be prevented, if she were to be the protector of the pack that she was meant to be.


As the warrior walked, her movements silent and fluid, her arms unburdened by the weaponry of the vestiges of man, she found herself lingering upon the land where the terrain changed. Halifax was only beyond this intangible barrier, and within Halifax was a house.... and within that house... a man. The white orbs paused as they lingered upon the tall building silhouetted with a thick darkness that was darker than the nighttime heavens. But then she turned away. Now, the female could not be troubled with such things. The matter of the crow-wolf had come running hot on her heels, and if she did not keep moving, those jaws would snap about her life. With a wave of her tail, the female turned away and slipped into the forest, her gait swift and easy as she intended to return to Dahlia. But something caught her attention.


Blood.


The warrior turned suddenly, her nose lowered as the woman traced its still-hot path. And she knew this scent that intermingled with the red scent of this blood. Onus. Something gripped the warrior. Why? What had caused this. But she did not have time to sort through such thoughts as she moved quickly, no longer needing to crouch for the strength of the scent and the visible, darker trail at her feet. And then, ahead, the white orbs of the woad warrior saw a fallen form. Kneeling at his side, the woad bound fingers gripped the lapel of his coat, and her fingers found the blood, still hot and flowing to kiss her hand. That hand released him as if she had not expected such a thing to be relinquished by this Champion of Justice, and the white orbs sought the eyes that were shrouded by the mask. "Onus...." The alto melody was quiet as she reached out to him with her voice. Then gripping him my the lapels once more, she tugged gently saying, "You have to get up!" She knew that the wound was not one that she could lick and heal with simple herbs. She couldn’t see it, but she could smell the blood that did not stop, and she wondered if she had come too late.

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#3
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<3


I HOLD SECRETS FLAME


The wounded warrior hadn't even realized his eyes had closed, so loose his grip on this world was becoming. He could barely even feel the rain pounding against his face. All he felt was the cold and all he smelled was his own blood. So long. It had been so long since he had tasted defeat like this. Only when he had first started his mission had he received such a grievous wound. Then he had been young and inexperienced. But now, it was so different. He was so different. He remembered that bitter taste well, but it was now intensified on his tongue. It had been a test. A test which he had failed. That being was more than just some common criminal. It was his opposite. And it had defeated him.



The soft voice that reached his ears sounded like it was coming through an air duct. So distorted and so far away. Was it some kind of angel coming to carry him away? No. No angels would come for him. He doubted such beings even existed. If they did they surely wouldn't trouble themselves with the likes of him. Demons existed though. It was a demon that had tore open the bottom of his neck and shoulder. Just because he didn't believe God existed didn't mean the Devil was a fable too. The man had seen far too much to believe that to be the case. Then faintly he felt a tug and the voice came at him again, though clearer this time. More corporeal.



Rain. He felt the rain again falling against his fallen form. Black orbs looked through their wet cloth and saw those two perfect orbs. Two pale moons glittering in the inky sky. "Cwmfen..." His voice was rougher and weaker than usual. How had she found him? How had anyone found him? Forgetting his situation, he tried to push himself up using his left arm and pain flashed before his eyes. "Goddammit," he muttered through clenched teeth. Then he used his blood-stained right hand to move into a sitting position, his wadded up scarf still sitting against the wound. It was completely stained with crimson. "I need help." It was not something he easily admitted, but if he was going to say it to anyone, he was thankful it was her.

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#4
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~~~ OuO
Should we bring Bane in or wait another post? ^=^
500+



Without being able to see his eyes, the female could not discern whether he had heard her. She thought for a moment to remove that cloth, but she could not bring herself to do it, unwilling to ignore his request and to take advantage of his position. The warrior respected him too much for that. Instead, she tried to listen to his breathing, to detect a change in the pattern. The fae brought herself nearer, her woad bound ears swiveling to better catch that needed sound. But already, from the loss of blood, it had become shallow and burdened. It was strange being so near to another who was so near to death, for it was not an enemy that she had cut down in a battle. It was a new experience for the female, and she recognized the difference between a dying enemy and a dying friend. Something new gripped her heart, something like fear but different somehow, as if there was a hope attached to it. Again, the female hoped that she was not too late.


As she pulled back, ready to attempt to move him, he spoke, calling her name. A light smile graced her maw as relief washed over her. But she heard the weakness that had taken the place of the blood that flowed still freely from the wound and new that she must hurry. Weakness was not a thing often heard within this male’s voice—in fact, though she had only come to know him recently, she had never heard such a thing, and she knew that she should not hear such a thing. As he attempted to push himself up, the warrior helped with her hands already gripping his lapels. When he told her that he needed help, she lifted the red cloth and realized that it was red for the color of his blood. Momentarily, she peered beneath it to assess the extent of the damage. The white orbs passed over the shredded flesh, and she put the pressure there as she looked up at the male. "I’ll get you the help—I have to take you to someone I know." For a moment, she was still as if unsure as to whether he would accept such a thing, but she knew that he was not stupid. Now was the time between life and death.


Shifting in the wet earth, the warrior moved to the arm that was unhindered by the wound, placing his arm around her. With the proximity, she could smell him in great detail, and what else she smelled almost made her strength fail her. Corvus...? Not again; perhaps she was mistaken. But with a sudden surge of strength, the female pushed the thoughts away as she defied the gravity that weighed the man down, bringing them both to standing. She paused again as she reset herself and then began to turn in the direction of the house that belonged to Bane. And she hoped that he would not turn them away. "Stay with me, Onus," the alto melody called urgently. "Who did this...?" Her voice was gentle, letting him know that he didn’t need to answer. But she wanted to try and keep him talking, to keep him engaged so that she would not lose him. She didn’t want to lose him, and she knew this to be true.

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#5
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Sure! He can hop in now or after your next post. Either works Smile


I HOLD SECRETS FLAME


A smile. It was such a foreign thing to be directed at him. For a split second he wondered if the marked warrior might be a sort of angel. Perhaps she was, though not in the traditional sense. Traditional angels wouldn't bother with him. She was made of nothing more than flesh and blood. But having someone actually come to assist him in his hour of need. She was the closest thing to an angel as he would ever get. He let her look over his wound. The man himself was unable to see the extent of the damage. The pain he felt and his knowledge of how it had occurred were his only indicators. But for someone who spent his life in combat it wasn't hard to imagine. For a moment his pride was reluctant to accept help from anyone but her, but he pushed it aside quickly. He knew that he teetered on the edge of oblivion.



Onus did his best to make it easier for her to lift him from the ground, but the help was minimal at best. His strength had more or less left him. That was why he had been lying there in the first place. At least with her assistance and support his legs would still move and he turned with her towards the city. He was lucky that she knew someone who could assist and the knowledge that they dwelt in the city comforted him. The woman's words struck at his stony heart. She truly was concerned for him. Somebody actually cared about him? It was something the man had never known, not even from his youngest days. "I will." While his body was loosing the battle, his will to live was far from finished.



Thinking of the creature that he had encountered gave him a sort of strength. A righteous fury. Lips curled in a faint snarl. "Some vile creature of darkness. A type of evil I have never encountered before. A pitch dark wolf save for a ring of white." He had a feeling that she would know who the beast had been. He had fought like her. Where her energy was light, his had been black. How the two were related he couldn't say, but somehow they were.

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#6
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Okay!
500+



At her question, the male seemed to burn with a new fury as his lips curled. Perhaps provoking such thoughts at this moment was unwise, but it was better for the male to be fueled by anything, even if it were this strange rage that emanated from him now. Concentrating mostly upon the path before them, careful to choose the way in which the best footing would be yielded. The cold of the thick rain was pushed away by the heat of her own body, which worked now to bring this wounded man to the house of another. There was a conflict now, and it was a strange one. She didn’t really know why it should matter, for there was nothing official occurring between the blue eyed medic and the white eyed warrior, and the same could be said of Onus. Yet, somehow it was strange to approach with the masked coyote the house of the black male when she had shared sexual relations with him. And such a thing should not have been strange, for the warrior was of a freer nature than most of this culture, though not loose. And it was almost amusing now that she considered it in that light, as if the culture of her mother were slowly being lost by the culture in which she now lived.


The warrior was almost sure that she would not have known the one who had attacked this creature who served Justice. But when the man claimed that a black wolf with white about him had been the attacker, there was no doubt in her mind about who it was. And the scent that had come to her before must have been his.... The woman’s steps did not falter, but her heart did, and she was silent for a long while. The matter may have been completely dismissed when she finally said, "He.... is the one who sired me." And she felt that familiar flicker of fear tickle her soul as she fell silent once more. And then, "Corvus Vendetta, at least that’s what he calls himself." It wasn’t a Korean name, and she had never learned what name he was created with. As she lead the male on, she turned her head slightly to face him. "He’s come for me." There was a strange certainty in her words, and as she said it, it was as if there was no fear.


She continued in silence, knowing that she neared their destination. I’m sorry it had to be you, the female thought, but she did not say it. Somehow, the black fae knew that the coyote would have preferred that crow wolf to meet him than never, and she knew that when the coyote healed, he would seek her father out. And the female worried about who the victor would be. Perhaps Onus, who had demonstrated his adaptability, would rise. Or perhaps he would fall. No one could know that yet. And suddenly, when the white orbs lifted to observe the world, she found herself before the door. She paused suddenly, pulling up short. Then adjusting herself once more, she knocked, almost pounding, as the rain thundered in her ears.

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#7
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cake Just an FYI, Onus is awesome. Of course so is Rorschach x]


cakeInside, it was dark.

cakeShadows on the walls, borne of the candles he had lit. Ghosts from the past and the future, all intermingled in the air around him, whispering words to him in old, dead languages that had been spoken long before his ancestors had been graced by God to live life on this forsaken planet. The dark wolf, a shadow amongst shadows, understood so much and so little simultaneously. From the center of his study, where he sat placidly in an armchair, he watched the panelled walls, the swords crossed above his desk. Somewhere nearby a fire burned, and he thought of the past. Something felt strange tonight. The dragon roared in his head, flowed like an ancient fire through his veins.

cakeAfter a short period of withdrawal, it always gave him so much more.

cakeOutside, it was raining. He heard it on the ceiling and on the walls. He could feel it in his bones. The noise was deafening, thundering all about him, Mother Nature shrieking her rage to the world. The fire, the candles, the rustic scent of wood that had never quite left the house, and amongst all these things he could still smell the rain.

cakeAnd in the rain, blood.

cakeBefore he even heard the knock, he was on his feet. The sound of a fist on wood, urgent in the darkness, echoed through the house as Bane strode towards the front door. It wasn't something he thought about; it was something he was trained for, something that transcended all other things. Pulling the door open swiftly, the dark wolf, nearly blocking the entrance with his sheer mass, only took a brief moment to gather who was there before moving aside to allow them in. There was no time for formalities, nor any time to allow his personal prejudice towards coyotes get in the way.

cake"Bring him to the table," he told Cwmfen, moving forward to take some of the injured stranger's weight. He knew she would know what table he spoke of. "Keep pressure on the wound. Are there any other injuries?" Then, he looking more closely at the man, at the blood that clung to his fur and still dripped down his coat, he thought briefly how it had been some time since he had lost a patient. These things were inevitable; how long had it been since he had seen that much blood? Even in the dim light, he knew a challenge when he saw one. "What happened, and how long ago was it?"



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#8
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Thank you! ^^ From what I've seen Bane is pretty sweet as well. And yes, Rorschach is da man.


I HOLD SECRETS FLAME


As he spoke those words of the man that had defeated him he felt a change in her. It was made even more apparent by the closeness of their bodies. As if her thoughts and emotions were being transmitted through the arm she was holding him up with. He didn't dare break the silence between them. The coy was good at waiting (even though he might not have all the time in the world anymore). Even as she spoke, even as he knew there was some connection between the two dark wolves, this news was unexpected. How could that man give life to someone such as her? As disturbing as it was, somehow this made him feel even more of a kinship to her. His mother had been a monster as well. Perhaps not to the degree of this Corvus, but she had tired to take his life.



The last words she uttered looking at him made his spine feel like ice. The woman didn't even have to say anything more. That man truly was utter darkness. "I won't let that happen." Those words almost tasted sour on his tongue, but he didn't mean them any less. He would do all in his power to save her from that man. That is if he survived past this night. There were no certainties in life, he knew this. Still, if he lived he would pay back this Corvus Vendetta. His purpose only burned more fervently in his chest when thinking of doing battle with the wolf again. If he could rid the world of his presence it would be a victory such as he had never tasted. And her nightmares would be abated. Usually the vigilante was not one for promises, but Cwmfen was different. If he survived, it was because of her. He would repay her that as best he could, as long as it did not betray his mission.



They stood in front of a door and she pounded against the wood. It was only mere seconds before a large wolf opened and stood aside for them to enter the building. Onus had to resist the urge to growl and tear himself away from the stranger as he helped Cwmfen with his weight. His blood loss did a great deal to help in that venture. As they laid him out on a table silently he obeyed and his already stained right hand returned to keep the pressure at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "No. Just this one." He supposed he was lucky, for that at least. Onus tried to recall how long it had been since the wound had made his life pour from him. With his somewhat fuzzy head it was hard to retain. "Fighting a wolf. He clamped his jaws there. Only way to escape was to pull self from him. Not sure how long."

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#9
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500+


She smiled, but only faintly, before she looked away. But the warrior believed him, and believed that he would do such a thing and succeed. It was strange to believe another so completely, especially when such a thing as her father’s life was involved, for none had yet defeated him. She knew that she could not.... If he did, it would be as if it were preordained. While he was walking with her support, walking as he died, she knew that next time he would not be killed so easily. Perhaps he had never met someone like Corvus—she was sure that he had not. She had not. She had never met anyone like him, so complete in his darkness. And thus she felt that dilemma, that struggle between intrigue, awe, and fear. She had blieved that she had left it all behind when she had come to ‘Souls and joined Dahlia de Mai, for surely she had come here for just that purpose. But it had been a mistake to think so. And now, because of her mistake, people were made to suffer.


Bane answered her knocking almost immediately, as if he had been expecting them. And she thought it strange that it were so as if once more their meeting was not mere chance. It had never been that way, even when she had first met him in this city, had known him in the darkness. But there was no time for contemplative thought as the full urgency of the situation filled the room. With the male’s help, she did as she was told, leading the dying vigilante to the table where she once was healed by this man’s grace. There was a tension in the air for a moment between the two, but that urgency broke it away for this crucial moment at least. As Onus’ body was placed upon that elevated surface, the weight lifting from her was more than noticeable to the woad marked woman. Her fingers explored the raised scar that trailed her back for a moment as if soothing it before she straitened herself.


The rainwater dripped onto the floor. Quickly, as the men exchanged those necessary words, the warrior returned to the door where she proceeded to shake her coat so as to not create a slick surface upon the ground of the house. And returning, she caught the last bit of the masked man’s words as she adjusted the feather in her mane. His resolve was great, that was certain, for it would have taken more than mere strength to be able to pull oneself from something like that, and the wound told enough of that tale for anyone to know—it leaked all over the floor too. Turning, she said to the black wolf, "I found him like this not far from here—you’re the only one I know equipped for such work...." She searched those blue eyes before continuing. "If there’s anything I can help you with, I will do my best to assist you." And perhaps more than just that. But she did not know how well she would be able to help, so unfamiliar as she was concerning the human world.

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#10
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cake I'm really sorry for being so slow, guys, things have been crazy lately. :x


cakeThough in many ways his mind was fractured, whenever he needed to focus or control himself he could do so; this was the trait that had played a large part in earning him redemption from a life of despair and regret. At that moment, there was nothing in the world but the wounded man and the blood that stained the very air around them. There was nothing cluttering his thoughts regarding the lady with the blue markings, no questions of why or what the coyote meant to her; these were things best left to Fate, either way, and Bane knew that well. If he noticed the coyote's chagrin at being handled by a stranger, (much less a wolf, this being the way his mind worked,) he didn't give any sign of it at all. People did strange things. As a doctor, he wasn't there to give query concerning their motives. His life's work was to heal.

cakeGloves first. He put them on while his brain quickly worked to prioritize the steps necessary to stabilize the man. No other injuries from what he could see, and if there were none would be as bad as the neck wound. He listened to what they said with enough attention to absorb, and nodded as they finished; noting, as if mildly impressed, that the coyote seemed very calm considering everything. People handled things differently, but most would be experiencing symptoms of shock by now. Part of handling emergencies like this involved talking the victim through it, giving the feel of a controlled situation; he sensed that here this wasn't necessary.

cakeOnly a brief second had passed before they finished speaking. "There's water in the kitchen," Bane told the blackbird, "could you bring him some?" He may or may not drink it, but that was irrelevant. Turning, he focused his full attention on the coyote. "Your jugular is severed." He stated this casually as if it were no more than a papercut. "Explains the constant bleeding." It bled in time with his heart; with each beat, the blood seeped out onto the coyote's hand. He would have to suture the vein before stitching the skin itself; not easy with such an inconsistent wound. Moving away briefly, he returned to the man with two pills; these (the only anaesthetic he had available) he placed on the table next to the man. "Painkillers. They're yours if you want them." He wouldn't question it either way.

cakePerhaps a minute later, he was at work, his large hands somehow well-suited for such delicate tasks. It wouldn't take long, and the bleeding stopped quickly enough; he had had enough practice with this sort of thing, and it came back to him easily. The rest of the wound would have to wait; for the moment, ceasing the bleeding was more important. There was nothing, after all, he could do for excessive blood loss, except pray.



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#11
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It's ok, it happens


I HOLD SECRETS FLAME


He was calm. Calmer than most would be in his condition, even hardened warriors. Perhaps it was because he had stared death in the face before when he was but a child. Death didn't scare him. Not really. It was the inevitable end to all things. He only hoped that by the grace of this man and Cwmfen his days wouldn't end here and now. He still had years of good he could do. The man wasn't a youth anymore, far from it, but he kept himself in extraordinary shape. He succumbed to no vices. He was in better shape than some people half his age. Hopefully his body wasn't ready to give up its ghost just yet. At least let me finish that demon. At least give me that. Onus didn't pray though. If there were gods they were deaf and blind to this world.



The coyote actually had somewhat of an idea what the wolf was talking about. One of the books he had had as a youth was one on human anatomy. While not exactly the same, it was very similar to that of an optime formed canine. He knew the jugular was an artery and of crucial importance. It was probably amazing he had made it this far with such a condition. He valued the straightforwardness of this man. He was telling things like they were, exactly what Onus wanted. Hidden eyes followed as two pills were set beside him. He would not take them now. He could handle the pain and he wanted to stay alert. If he were going to be drugged he wanted a better idea if he would wake up again or not afterwords.



The vigilante didn't bother saying anything more. What this surgeon said required no response and he knew it was best to preserve his energy. He didn't flinch a muscle as the man began to stitch his severed artery back up. There was pain yes, but he took it in stride. The only sign of his coping with it was a clenched jaw. Nothing more. He felt his lifeblood cease to leak from him, at least with such rapidity, and was relieved. But he had lost a large amount of the vital fluid already. Would stopping it be enough? He trusted the man would tell him if he were going to die.

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#12
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I wasn’t sure if there was a sink or not, ^=^;;
500+



Cwmfen watched curiously, the woad bound ears pricking forward as she watched him fit the gloves. Each creature here seemed to be in a completely different world, she thought suddenly as she watched the medic. Her gaze lifted suddenly when he spoke, and she immediately turned to retrieve what it was that he requested. But once in the kitchen, the warrior was quite confused. The black fae was standing in the middle of a room in which everything seemed foreign; she remembered this place from her last stay here, and that had been when she had been under Bane’s care. The black tail waved several times behind her as she set herself against this needlessly difficult task. Water had to be somewhere....


The woad bound ears flickered back, listening to the sound of the male’s speaking that suddenly seemed loud in the silence. Her nose twitched as it tried to smell where the water would be. The white orbs carved a path in the air, falling finally upon a strange metallic gleam that her nose told her held water. She trotted to it, her hands reaching out to touch the strange neck. The fingers slid down it and when her hands nudged something near the side, a light trail of water came from that neck. The warrior was surprised, but she looked around to find something to hold the water. Eventually, she grabbed something that was similar to what she remembered drinking out of. The soft trickling filled the cup and she was able to stop that flow, carrying the cup back to the two at the table.


The cup was set gently upon the table. Her white orbs lingered on the wolf as he worked, her silence of equal caliber, as she observed him with a gentle, indiscernible gaze. This male did not seem to have changed as the others had; it was strange, but it had often seemed as if the world were always changing and she were singularly left behind, as constant as the earth but as acquiescent as the wind and water. The warrior was quite content with where she herself was, but others did not seem to share that view; it was as if there were a strange force that compelled their minds to move in a certain way, and yet that current had missed her. Yet Bane and Onus had not changed, their character and quality consistent. She wondered quietly what kept them so, wondering perhaps to learn what kept her own mind so constant.


In this way she thought as the warrior stepped back, allowing the blue eyed male ample room to continue his work. But the warrior watched quietly, her gaze intent as she watched him work upon the wound. Somehow the torn shoulder seemed worse, but she trusted the wolf. Her gaze shifted at one point to the coyote. He had not taken the offered ‘painkillers’ that remained upon the table. She did not recognize those pills, thinking them strange. But their purpose was not unknown as their label was self explanatory, and so she was impressed with the vigilante’s self control; she wondered too how much of it was from the loss of blood. The woad warrior’s gaze lingered on the black wolf’s back as she stood behind him, far enough to receive no heat but close enough to see.

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