Let it be your new route,

Lately Uriel was riddled with anxiety ; she was gaze toward the north with a nausea, thinking of her interaction with the @Kuhn. Everything about him confused her — for what she thought was pleasant would soon turn toward him in a growl and otherwise attack, and she should shudder to think what would've happened if he truly ran after her. For the meanwhile, the woman settled within the Golden Glade, and didn't particularly want to.. Leave. It was the one place she felt mildly safe, but even then, on occasion one could catch her looking around in a rather scared matter, spooked by her own shadow.

She leaned against a tree, taking deep breathes reminding herself it was fine now, he was there and she was here.. She wouldn't return to the tundra, a vow that would be kept in fear or repeated pasts, but.. Did she do something wrong? She could not think of what it was, and only could deduct the difference in species, that would always divide a feline, and a canine. She looked down at her shuffling paws, continuing to catch a breath.

@Lore

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  Lore was in pain. Undeniable, coarse, dismantling pain that crushed and split his mighty spirit into two halves. Two halves that may take a century to put back together, and meld together as one whole entirely. 

 He hadn't even wanted to be a part of the fucking raid. Lore was no...loyal stallion towards their band of thieves, but that's exactly what they were. Mercenaries. Lore didn't want to fight. He didn't want the skin of his shoulder to be shredded, torn to bits, crusted with blood. He wanted many things, but not that. One of the things he did want, was the Glade. Or rather, a hidden gem that lingered inside of it. 

 A blonde beauty that so gently caressed his line of vision, and would soften his view. That, or he had lost too much blood. Either way, he was still limping, muscles tense with anger and exhaustion, to find her. 

 It wasn't hard to, either. He caught a whiff of her soft scent, followed it for as long as he could before he was met with a large tree. He didn't see her— probably since she was on the other side— but he collapsed. His muscles were incessant on their lack of strength, and he just needed to rest. Yeah, rest for a little while. As he hit the ground with a hard 'thump', he groaned, a harsh sound from the back of his throat.

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The familiar scent of another was on the wind, but she tilted her head lightly, for something about it changed. The smell of a pack was on as well, and for a second there was both sadness and relief he had found perhaps a home, that wasn't a temporary place like the Glade.. Yet quickly changed when blood lifted to the air, and she was quick to turn and find a fallen Lore, battered and bruised, even bloodied, upon the ground.

She was shaking, already riddled with stress from earlier interactions and the panic that was slowly ceasing from thinking of the tundra had her breath quicken, a pace hasten as she got close to the man, lightly her nose touching him with a soft, quivering, "Lore..?" There was fear within her eyes, wounds that indicated was but a wolf that had done so, and she couldn't help but continual brushing and touching, a desperate plea to motion something that indicated he was awake and alive. A breath to be heard, but..

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  Lore would stay quiet for a moment. The world around him began to go silent, only the soft hums of the ground spoke to him incessantly. It was peaceful. He could feel himself being seduced into such a deep, warm slumber, but he has ripped away from his euphoria with the light nudging and voice of another. He almost let out a growl, but the effort alone was too much. Lore would mewl in pain, eyes scrunching together before viciously opening.

 And he was greeted by the sun. His eyelids drooped heavily, hooding his vision, and he gave her a lazy smile. Tooth and all. "Ah, angioletta..." he'd say drearily, fighting his willpower to not let his head loll backwards into a hefty slumber. "I'm a'right. I'm a'right." Was he saying that to convince her, or himself? Lore didn't know— but it was certainly himself. The pain dulled, his muscles pulsating, and his teeth grit to manage it. 

 He felt her body against his— a shaking, sequestering body— "Why're you shakin', darlin'?" his voice was tender, tempting to be solid despite the crack in his vocals. His voice was cut raw, thwarted by the howls.

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"I," she can, "I can help," Uriel stuttered through her downcasted and shaky look. She knew she was useless, with the fights of the Walrus, all she could do was watch and wait, as the fighters brawled and the medics went in, but she? Knew nothing of either, a terrible fighter and knew nothing of the arts — that was why she strived to know, to figure it out, find medicines and learn as she could, so she could prevent.. This.

@Harper had shown her a better way to gather poppy seeds, she had them, she knew their uses. @Olive gave light advice on other herbs, the small knowledge that she had, would present itself as Uriel darted to the forest, only to return seconds later with a leaf. Behind her though the shuffling of those seeds were falling out in her hasteness, she didn't see them, she didn't notice ; but even when coming to his side there was still enough.

"These are poppy seeds, ok? They'll.. They'll help the pain," something while she would forage for anything.

Moss. Moss was needed, she needed to cover the wounds. Or was it after finding the poultice so disinfect it? She was shaky and mind a mess, she couldn't remember clearly while scatter-brained to anything to help him.

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  Lore hummed tenderly at her urgency. Even if he was warm at just the thought of her helping him, what he wanted was for her to just sit beside him. A familiar face and scent would do just the trick, not these seeds and blankets of moss. 

  As her shaking body came towards his once more, he felt the light feeling of a leaf caress his muzzle. Poppy seeds. He didn't need damn poppy seeds— but seeing the way her eyes glossed with tears and panic, he wouldn't be able to say no. His mouth opened, and down the hatch went those dry seeds. He almost coughed them up— but he didn't want to act like a bitch in front of her. Lore inhaled sharply, shaking his head to clear the fuzziness, his eyes focusing on his dandelion. 

  "Hey," Lore would coo softly towards her, his eyes melding at her complexion. "Look at me," the brute would practically have to beg. "Uriel, darling, look at me." He'd hold her gaze once he got it, making sure that she didn't turn away in fear. Not letting her do so like she has countless times in the past. His feet interlocked her for the time being, not letting her jump away. Only for a second.

  "I'm a'right." The brute would inhale and exhale clearly, making her watch as he did so.  "Relax. I'm okay." He didn't like the way her body shook against his. It freaked him out, and sent him into overdrive, thinking of countless ways to just make her feel better. Well, he supposed it didn't help if he was caked in red ichor— but he wanted to see her. Feel her. And her she was— tempting to scamper from him one more time.

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As her mind went to a million different places, she tried to dissect what plants to bring, what was needed and how to get them. She should've done better, she should've stocked up, if she just was better, if she learned more and found someone who could actually teach her, maybe she could handle this better. Seeing him in red and wounds was uncomfortable, it was downright cruel and she hurt to think what had happened and the smells that came from his pelt, trouble brewed and like always, she could not help. Although, some relief was shown when he took the seeds, it was something at least, to relieve the mild pains that he may have.

She did jump though, for her thoughts and chattering of what to get and what to do was interrupted as he coo'd her out of the trance, and she looked at him startled, "I can find someone," Uriel announced, looking as she was interlocked by his position, as he tried to soothe that he was fine ; but by every means, the golden wolf looked at him and pained, wanting to argue against this.

Her head leaned into him, "i'm sorry, I.. I can find someone," like a begging, forehead touching his pelt and the smell of blood being so ambient. She wanted to help, she knew she couldn't, even with all the knowledge that she had, Uriel felt it was useless, but she wanted to help some way, some how.

She wanted him to be okay.

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 Uriel had wanted to leave him. Again. He shook his head, denying her such a request, and tempted to ease her bustling mind with soft coos and chirps of reminders that he would be okay. It was just a few gashes here and there— they would heal, just as every wound would.

Her notion of wanting to find someone else put a sour taste in his mouth, almost like he had swallowed a lemon whole. Zest filled his gums, and he'd frown. "Find someone else?" He'd repeat, confused by why exactly she felt the need for someone else to saunter in on this moment. The moment where Uriel had her head buried into the fur of his chest, and him, where he was excruciatingly vulnerable.

"No, no, ma belle. We don't need anybody else." Had he been referring to this moment, or all of it entirely? He hadn't quite known himself— he was simply focused on her soft, soothing scent that calmed his thundering heart.

Lore would hum, savoring such precious care. "You're already helping."

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"But.." She was crossed, knowing of her vulnerability and uselessness, what was she to do? He was strange, she wasn't sure why he was comforting her when he was the one upon the ground, bathed in but blood. She had seen it, she had her own injuries, but it pained her to see someone she cared about being in situations, that Uriel kept finding herself in. Wasn't she supposed to be the one within bad-luck? "but what can I do to help?" she said, not feeling being here was.. Anything but.

"What had happened?" The golden dame raised her head and looked at him, worried as so, sniffling lightly through the tightening of tears she refrained from letting fall. A crybaby that she was, Uriel thought out of all, he should be the one to be crying.

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