apologetic welcome

Enough time had passed since she'd been stabilized that M'Jakuna allowed the others a moment to rest from tending the stranger's wounds, taking it upon himself this time to take care of her; the bleeding had more or less eased to a stop and every cut or gash had started the very, very early stages of scabbing. The stranger made it this far and it'd be unkind to think she'd not make it further; the only true worry would be infection, but he presumed that could be staved off with the attention each wolf delivered, and with so many prying eyes... it'd have to be real stubborn to persist for long.

That's what M'Jakuna was doing now, gently inspecting the wounds snaking her legs, looking for the sapling stages of infection and the hopeful sight of unconscious movement that didn't come... a long shot, he supposed, everyone who took a look at her closely knew something was deeply wrong.

With a shake of his head, he'd begin the tedious look over the smaller, more scattered injuries she'd received, under the belief she was still well under.

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She did not dream well, but Uriel would not remember. She stirred uncomfortably, pain rippling through as moments of trying to adjust herself or even curl was left with nothing but the pain of attempting, and the factor her legs refused to listen. There was a groan, her head felt like it was pounding and everything was sore, but when she opened her silver eyes, there was an instinct to flee. However she was bounded, a jolt upwards sent her back to the den-floor with a sob.

She was groggy but knew by instinct this was not somewhere she knew, it was not Lore, it was not even someone familiar, it wasn't the Golden Glade. The flutter of scents waffed to, the smell of a pack and the thoughts of trespassing filtered, but the smell of medicine was stronger then any that brought confusion. She looked to see a man, but she wasn't sure what to say.

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He'd only notice she woke when he reached her face, scenting at a peculiar cut the moment his dark eyes met hers; he blinked and withdrew slowly. "You're awake," he would mutter, voice low and crackling, so deep it sounded as though he held a perpetual growl within his chest. He settled onto his haunches then, looking at her carefully. "Can you speak, dear?" It wasn't like he'd be surprised if the attack stole her voice, too.

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She remembered him, right before she passed out.. Mistaken him for another due to his deep colors, but his eyes were as brown as his pelt. Deep, and dark, a man who smelled of one that was so inkling of a pack, that it filtered through her nose all around.. His voice felt it was filled with a strange kindness, or was she mistaking it? It made her feel embarrassed, and depressed. They were taking care of her as she smelled the thick scent of herbs and the feeling of goo' upon her fur. She again, was becoming a burden.

y.. yes," she coughed, "thank.. you," so her parched voice spoke, "but.. Where am I?" first thoughts to say was a thank for a saving, for though burden as she was, she was alive. It did bring questions of why and wonders, for they could've tossed her back to the forest floor, but instead she was somehow here. Injured, pain, even as she tried to stand up, her paws shook, and she fell back to the ground.

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"No need to thank me, I don't ask for it," he reassured her, knowing it was simply customary but it felt and appeared very wrong—she had almost met with her ancestors, befallen a fate too soon... M'Jakuna and his pack were merely doing as any should for another. He would whisper a shh, no as she tried to stand and fell, letting his muzzle draw over her shoulders, then some of her spine as he looked to ensure no wounds were split or agitated by the action. "Please don't, you've only now begun to clot properly... just give yourself some time before you start with trying to move."

M'Jakuna wouldn't inform her of the presumption and diagnosis made, instead he lift upright, and let his gaze fall on hers. "The southern lake near the mountains; Juh'harah territory to be specific," he told her. "The others will be relieved to know you're awake, I certainly am... Are you hungry at all?" He wouldn't say thirsty, no, he had his plans for that for it was not negotiable.

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Uriel was a woman who could be said was both desperate and fearful for the attention of others. She avoided packs like the plague, she was afraid to stay with strangers but at the same time she was desperate to make friends and family, a connection that can provide a warmth that she so desired. So she internally felt.. Strange, to be taken care of and touched by another, much less a male. Her skin felt warm as she felt his glide against her spine, as she whimpered lightly in a groan, settling to the ground. Trying to adjust painlessly was not something that could be done within her state.

Her eyes darted along as she had gained new knowledge, for the area was not unfamiliar, "bluewater lake..?" so the golden girl whispered audibly to herself. She was near it in her final moments, but the memories of how she exactly came to near the center of this pack was an unknown piece. She was sure they were newly claimed, she had passed by it many times.. There was a frown on her face to think she was burdening a pack who freshly started.

So she refrained, "i'm ok.." although her stomach twisted and turned, but could she even stomach anything? "I'm sorry for.. Intruding." Or was she trespassing? An assurance was given, but within her murmers of pains of the light tears that came, she motioned an apology.

It hurt, but she couldn't even curl up to cry. Her body refused to let that happen.

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He'd let her speak as he rose to his paws, tail swishing behind him as he examined their limited stores. M'Jakuna's ears would prick up at the mention of this land's name and he let out a soft aha noise, none unlike a little exclamation point just then appeared above his head; eyes flitting to hers for a moment so that he could offer her a smile even softer. "That's it... I remember hearing that, forgive me, I'm still getting used to the way this land is named," he said, finally slipping into the back of this den where some of their moss sat; cooled and damp and tucked away in the dankest section in the wall's side. He would take some into his mouth and move back toward the mouth of the den, but not before he walked past her with a soft shhh that couldn't be too badly muffled by the moss. "I'll be back, hold on, alright?" Now that would be more muffled.

She reminded him a little of Ozai; the way she almost seemed to expect something terrible to happen simply for the crime committed that was existing. It worried him and it pulled at his heart in such a sore way that he so miserably wished to have met the ones who met her before he had the privilege to know her.

But that wasn't the way to think, he knew, she needed his care not his ire for things neither could change now; it'd only put a further stress on her if not bring worry for the sort of wolf he was—something she did not need when she was, unfortunately, bound to these lands.

So, M'Jakuna would stalk to the lake, not far from where she lay, and he very carefully lower to his belly and extend his mouth with the moss, dipping it into the waters with the knowledge the moss would absorb it decently and maintain most of it for the journey back; he would need to hunt something smaller soon. Its meat would feed one of them and its pelt could be left to dry in the sun long enough to make for a good mode of transport for this deliver-a-drink he had.

Once he knew it was hydrated proper, he would stand upright once more and return to her where he would then set the moss before her forepaws. "Drink," he would say, motioning gently as he settled back down beside her. "You do not have to eat yet but you need to drink, that's one of things your body needs most right now; water."

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Settled now and within a moment of alone.. Uriel gazed about ; a bedding, the den smelled of herbs and other wolves.. The continual scent of the complete unknown, she couldn't recognize any of these wolves, but they continued to not only take care of her, but shower with a strange kindness. It scared her, truthfully, to be toyed with the unknown and nothing familiar in sight. Her wounds covered in poultice or otherwise coverings, a clean but ruffled coat.. Even outside was peaceful compared to the storm she faced, as she looked to see the darkening sky, which was then blocked by the appearance of him.

A weak thanking as she bent down, soaking in the thirst that quenched so. She would nearly swallow it, not realizing just how parched her body was and craved more. Yet never did ask, "who, are you?" was the question she turned. Uriel knew Bluewater Lake, but she did not know this pack, or him.

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He had moved closer to retrieve the moss in order to fetch her a little more water when she spoke up, a bit relieved that she had a little authority and grit left within her that she wouldn't wordlessly let the world shuffle around her without so much as a why; M'Jakuna would breathe a little easier as he stepped aside, sitting near the mouth of the den.

"I am M'Jakuna," he said to her. "Leader of the Juh'harah..." he would tilt his head then. "...and who are you, dear?"

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There was light panic in her gaze, a wide-eyed stare that would turn away with a rather.. Frantic to slow look around, digesting what was. She even looked back at her legs, the feel, the instinct, the wanting to run but when she tried she felt nothing of the sorts. Her body itself tried to move but grimaced, for one part refused to listen. She wasn't sure if it was just because they were broken, and Uriel was scared it was something else. Anyone with an eye can see they were.. Bad.

There was a pause as she turned back to the man with an unfamiliar name, and pack as well, "I am Uriel," her ears were back in submissive pose as she tucked her head close to her chest.

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He would let out a low sigh, watching as she looked and sought in a way that could only be described as frantic, urgent... M'Jakuna felt deeply for her, so much was upended from the life she led before happening upon them by whatever cruel events had befallen her and he wished to make her as comfortable and eased as he could. If such a thing was even possible in this sort of situation.

"Uriel," he would say, dipping his head in greeting, expression solemn. M'Jakuna sought out to learn if she recalled what had taken place to bring her here... mild questioning that felt terribly cruel given her state, and so he would move onto something else, something more pressing, after all—he and the others had patrolled, no one had caught any sign of intruders or massive threats. "Uriel... How do you feel—I know you cannot feel well but we have been treating what we can see and what we can presume would ail you but we would prefer to know we're treating you as you need, any ail, we'll manage to fetch something for it."

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"I.." She choked, feeling the light waterworks blurr her vision. She remembered her last moments before what happened, a day of foraging and exploration — a wolf who roamed and always returned to the Golden Glade, and it hurt knowing she was in no position to return. Any attempts to even run what was deemed a home was a futile attempt. It hurt, as her body slowly crawled into the earth, and chin onto the ground. The desperate desire to curl and hide away, conflicting with the desire to say thank you. Despair and gratitude?

"It broke my legs.. I can't move them, but I can feel them." She was bruised and generally battered all about, but above all else her legs were the worst. Truly cracked and scratched, ever-lasting scars to afflict her and the unknown thoughts if such an act could heal. But every push and prod was the worst, she wasn't parylyzed completely. Plagued her with pain.

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