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Im…. Alive?
Little past dawn/limping towards the Savanna but not quite at the borders

Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

It’d been some time since she departed from Rowan; days, weeks even. The decision she so desperately wanted to make was impossible to admit to herself. Guilt and anxiety plagued her waking thoughts and her dreams, horrible nightmares where she wandered forever, passing up stability and a chance to fall in love or have pups to continue searching. Some nights, she dreamed of staying, having all those things, but then Nettle finds her and hates her for abandoning Thistle to die a gruesome death.

Some nights, she spent on the coast. Others, she wandered to the closest patch of trees in the Shadowed Dell and found a darker place to sleep.

What a terrible mistake shed made.

She should have taken Rowan’s offer and gone to see if Bucky would accept her into the pack.

It’d been…. sunset, yes, sunset, when shed made it to the forest, sniffing around immediately at the smell of blood in hopes for an easy meal of scraps before bed. Shed been gorging herself on crabs and other seafood items that might soon be out of her reach, should she leave. The smell drew her closer to the river where she usually pulled together a pile of leaves to sleep on; how convenient.

It was dawn now. Blood had caked the entirety of her left flank, and somewhere from the three long, deep scratches, crimson still trickled. Witch couldn’t bear to think of the damage done to tendons, muscle, while it drug limply behind her. Useless in its numbing agony.

Shed been stupid, not to check for the scents of a larger predator.

Never even got to see what the scraps were, let alone got to eat before shed been pounced on. Spooked, Witchhazel had only just managed to spin out of the teeth of a large feline; the woman had never seen anything quite like it, even as one powerful paw shed been unable to dodge struck out and slashed across her flank.

The meal obviously hadn’t been worth it. In a lapse of stillness in which the beast hadn’t moved, Witch had turned tail and bolted, thanking all that was good that the monster haven’t given chase. Fear and adrenaline pushed her into the Range, fleeing for her literal life and ignoring the leg that dangled and dragged. Even long after Witch had stopped running, she moved until she collapsed on the ground and darkness enfolded her.

Just before light began to peek above the horizon, Witchhazel opened her eyes.

She wasn’t dead.

For at least an hour, Witch could only lay there, afraid to look at her leg. She wasn’t sure exactly how far shed come in her frenzied state of flight and blinding pain, but there was one thing she did know: She would never be able to survive on her own, let alone travel and find her siblings. Even in a few months, depending on how well—if—she healed, she might not ever be able to walk right again. She had to find the Rangers now, and hope they would at least allow her to stay long enough to heal herself.

There was no way shed come far, but however long shed been able to rest, there was no will left to walk. As carefully as she could, Witch plopped down in a patch of grass, tipped her head up, and loosed a high, pain-filled howl for anybody within hearing distance. The wind blew at her back, keeping her from knowing just how very close she’d gotten herself to the borders, and it was all Witchhazel could do to say awake, even with her head on her front paws.


Apr 11, 2018 02:05 PM

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

Poet had been pacing around the rise for hours, unable to sleep at the odd mixture of excitement between Josalyn and depression that kept hitting him in waves from the news of the Alliance disbanding.

He and Jos still didn’t know where they’d go, but it seemed more or less clear that they wouldn’t stay at the rise alone. They were both pack wolves by nature, as well as very social. As much as they cared for each other, they both know it wouldn’t be enough to sate them for the rest of their lives.

So the former Warden took to tracing the rise and range as if working to commit everything to memory before they left, whenever that time came. All the scents, the colors of the sunset cascading down the sky and setting the golden grasses ablaze with a beautiful glow, all the memories - both good and bad - he’d created here, the way the stars were so clear at night to help him clear his thoughts. They all came together in the form of tears that stung at his eyes, though they never did drop.

The sun had started peaking above the horizon and Poet found himself out at the range again to look longingly across the expanse of the territory. It was then that he heard a pained call and his ears pricked immediately, fear wrenching his gut as he was fully aware of just how familiar the voice was to him. Without thinking, he sprinted off. Eventually, the wind slapped her scent in his face and he sucked in a sharp breath. Hazel.

How long had it been since he’d last seen her? They’d gotten along well, even poured out tidbits of each others’ history to one another when Poet first came back from originally abandoning the valley. He found a sort of odd comfort in her, though she’d disappeared quite soon after. Even when he went to the top of the rise - to the old twisted tree she’d created her den underneath - her scent had long since dissipated.

But now she was here. Poet wasn’t sure what happened to her, but it didn’t sound good.

Several minutes went by before he spotted a sudden emptiness in the tall grasses, seeing Witchhazel’s form coming into view the closer he got. At first, he saw nothing wrong aside from her laying down. But once his eyes trailed her body and took in the sight of her hind leg, his gaze narrowed in immediate worry.

“Hazel!” He called out, slowing to a brisk walk as he approached as to not run her over in his spastic frenzy. “What the hell happened to you??” Panic flourished in his tone, brows knitting together as he continued scanning her body.

Apr 11, 2018 08:19 PM — Post #1

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Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

How much time passed? Had it been light out, or dark when shed woken up?

How many times had she woken up?

Things were a little fuzzy. She should have been able to smell his scent closing in, but it wasn’t until the nickname she was so often dubbed with floated across the grasses that she realized someone was here. Someone she knew and, remembering her broken promise with a flash of wholly different pain, someone who might not be happy to see or help her.

Was Poet the spiteful type? She didn’t deem him so, but who knows what abandonment could do to a fellow? Witch hadn’t really gotten to know him as well as she wished she could have, and there was a twinge of regret in her belly when her emerald gaze fluttered open to see his handsome face. At least he sounded worried about her.

Witch didn’t even have the energy to lift her chin or pretend she was okay. Every moment that passed brought another strike of pain through her very bones. The blood flow had slowed, not stopped, but Witch only had one thing in mind.

“I’m s-so sorry, Poet. I b-broke m-my promise. My sister, Poet. S-she showed up. She found me, s-said my brother was close by. Said s-she wanted to join the Rise, but she ran off. She j-just left…. I’ve be-been trying to find t-them. Thistle and Nettle…. They w-were so close, Poet.

Perhaps this was her karma. Shed had a good place at the Rise, a home and people who would have cared for her, a place she could have built a family and a life and a pack to give the rest of her years to. She should have just allowed Thistle to go off her way, even if it meant never seeing her again. Even Rowan had offered her a place to try again, and looking back, Witch regretted her decision telling Rowan she needed to think about it.

Now she could be useless for life. A burden. Tied down. Sure, shed come to the valley looking for someone to protect her, but not quite so literally.

The pale woman tried to sit up, yelping in pain and shutting her eyes tight, but pushing up to lay on her uninjured side.

Man, this hurt. Now, blaming herself, she couldn’t bring herself to look ather friend.

I g-got what I deserved, Poet.”

Apr 11, 2018 09:03 PM — Post #2

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

He was horrified at what he saw. The brown, oxygenated blood that indicated it had been there for some time already. If he squinted hard enough, he could see fresh red trickling through and his gut wrenched. Not because he couldn’t handle the sight of gore, but because it was oh so familiar to him.

He needed herbs, but he didn’t want to leave her here alone. But if he didn’t act fast enough, she could either continue bleeding out or succumb to infection. Or another predator following the metallic tinge to the air.

She started speaking then and, while Poet listened, his eyes rummaged over her body frantically. He listened as she explained why she left. That she met her sister again and went searching for her brother. In the end, it seemed she’d failed. The Warden wasn’t angry with her. Truthfully, he empathized with her. He’d been in her situation before - looking for a sibling who, in the end, failed to show up.

“It’s okay, Haze. You’ll be okay,” he tried to comfort her, though the stress in his voice gave away certain aspects of his true feelings. She still had a big chance and Poet wasn’t going to dilly-dally.

As she tried to move herself and yelped in pain, Poet winced at the action. “N-no, you didn’t deserve any of this. Don’t move, stay here, I’ll be right back, you’ll be okay Haze - just don’t move, okay??” His words were tripping over each other as he spoke and immediately he turned and headed directly for the trees that guarded his den. The pack’s food cache was in the same trees, as well as the pack’s herb cache and his own personal one and he didn’t doubt that Josalyn might have something useful lying around.

He ran as fast as his legs would take him through the range, nearly tumbling down the hill to get to the base of it. As he ran down, he screamed for his mate at the top of his lungs.

“JOSALYYYYYNNNNNNN!” Though he was certain she was still sleeping, he didn’t bother being delicate. There was an urgency to his tone that he desperately needed her to hear. A couple yards away from his den he started digging out sticks to reveal a hole. He hadn’t been too focused on keeping it stocked well, but he still had some necessary items.

Apr 11, 2018 09:23 PM — Post #3

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Name Player
Josalyn Vedi Madison

The golden girl had been sunning herself in the early morning light. She had woken briefly that morning to find the den already empty and didn’t think much of it. Poet must have had a lot on his mind recently - she wouldn’t begrudge him the need to go spend time by himself, even if she had done the exact opposite to him recently by clinging to him. Besides, she was still sleepy. So she had gotten up just long enough to crawl out of the den and find a nice sunny patch among the trees to fall back asleep.

Josalyn was drifting in and out of dreams when she heard him hollering her name. Sniffing, Josalyn didn’t recognize the urgency of it immediately and lazily rolled onto her back, stretching her legs. Then, gradually, she rolled like a plump little potato back onto her feet and rose, cracking her jaws open in a wide yawn.

Flicking her tail, she headed out into the trees toward the vast, rolling hills beyond, curious as to what he could be calling her about.

(will arrive next round)

Apr 11, 2018 09:31 PM — Post #4

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[ Edited: Apr 11, 2018 09:37 PM by Josalyn ]
Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

She couldn’t stay up long. Trembling with the effort, Witch only managed to keep on her haunches for a minute or two before sliding ungracefully to her belly with a drawn out moan.

Poet was having none of it; in fact, he seemed to care very little about her reasoning for jumping ship, and more about her leg. Perhaps later—if there was one—she would hear more about it,  but for now Poet was trying to…. leave?

That woke her up a little. She’d been alone so long, and she knew very well the dangers of being alone and vulnerable in a place that likely smelled heavily of blood.

“Poet, please d-dont leave me!”

But she was begging to empty air; her timber friend had bolted off in the direction hed come, and in the distance, she was pretty sure she heard him hollering. Before, shed been too foggy to think about worrying, but after seeing Poet and hearing the panic in his voice….

There was a very real chance that Witchhazel would still die. Yes, shed gotten away from the cat but…. infection and blood loss were both very reasonable things to worry about, and Poet knew that.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she obeyed her friends command and stayed still, opting instead to turn as far as she could to give her flank a good lick. Poet was likely going for something or someone to help her, and she could speed the process up a bit by cleaning the dried blood and the open wound, no matter how bad it hurt.

Apr 11, 2018 09:56 PM — Post #5

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

Sifting through his stash, he realized there was still no sign of Josalyn. He didn’t have time to go and drag her cute butt out of the den and hoped she was just getting a slow start to her day. In the meantime, his blue eyes searched the current state of his cache to pick out the useful things.

Dandelion, goldenrod, boneset, yarrow, eyebright…anything he thought might help the situation.

“JOS, WHERE ARE YOU???” He screamed again, doing his best to project his voice through the trees, but not lifting his gaze as he was starting to create a pile of his herbs to pick up with his mouth.

He realized he didn’t have anything to stop the bleeding with and cursed under his breath. Regardless, he scooped up his small pile with his mouth and started in a mad dash back towards his den. On the way, he spotted Josalyn’s bright coat but didn’t bother to stop. “THOMEONE’TH BLEEDIN OUT, I NEED HERBTH,” he yelled at her as he passed her completely, the herbs in his mouth muffling out any proper enunciation. “Pleath tell me you have thomething to thtop bleeding,” he called out behind him as he crash-landed into his den.

The next thing he needed was a stick for Hazel to hold onto. The ones outside were brittle and wouldn’t fare well under immense amounts of pressure. But Poet had a stick in mind for use. He found it and had given it to Hugo, Vanessa, and their stick children as a pet cat. Part of him felt guilty for taking it away from them, but they didn’t seem to like it anyway. They preferred their pet stick dog that Comet had found for them a while ago.

Quickly he added it to the stockpile in his mouth and rushed back out the den towards Josalyn.


Apr 11, 2018 10:16 PM — Post #6

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Name Player
Josalyn Vedi Madison

Josalyn picked up a steady lope through the trees until she heard Poet calling for her again. This time, she realized something might be wrong - there was no lackadaisical air in the way he shrieked for her, no sense of jest or buoyancy that might have suggested he was just being, well, Poet. There was something more troubling afoot here, and that soon became obvious as he charged through the trees, yelling (albeit muffledly) that someone was bleeding out.

Bleeding out.

Her eyes widened as it sunk in. Someone was nearby, bleeding out. Injured, possibly grievously. Her head swiveled as she watched him race past her toward the den, slow to actually realize what he needed her to do until he threw over his shoulder that he needed something to stop the bleeding.

“C-Cobwebs!” she fumbled after him, turning after him to go back to the den - no wait, she didn’t have cobwebs there. There was a cache nearby, though. Wibbling on her paws, she decided to go another direction and raced toward one of the nearby trees, an oak with a cavity in one of its many knots. Josalyn shoved her face into the hole, nosing around the collection of slowly desiccating herbs until she found the wad of cobwebs she had been hoarding for a moment just like this.

With her mouth full of sticky cobwebs, Josalyn whirled around and raced back in the direction Poet was headed.

Apr 12, 2018 09:52 AM — Post #7

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Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

The silence was deafening; just the rustle of the grass around her to let her know she wasn’t gone yet. Witch’s ears strained, cupped in the direction she thought he’d left as she fought to stretch further, but she couldn’t even reach the wound itself, pain shooting through her leg and forcing her to lay time and time again on her side. Her breaths had started to quicken, shorten; was that the thrum of her heart matching the frantic pace of her lungs? Tears soaked the fur around her eyes as she flopped onto her shoulder with another moan. It was getting cold.

Somewhere between her feeble attempts to clear the blood from her fur and blaming herself for all of her misfortune, blackness claimed her again.

When she blinked open an unfocused gaze, panting harsher now, Witch knew she had to stay awake. Each time she closed her eyes, the chances of her not opening them again plummeted. She couldn’t move more than to shift further into the patch of grass with a pitiful whine in hopes to keep some of her warmth, her chin falling again to her paws and watching, waiting for Poets return.

Think, Witch, think. Stay awake. Who will tell Nettle he was wrong if you die here?

Forcing herself to think through the nausea and dizziness that threatened her senses, Witch wondered where he’d gone: how far from the Dell had she fled? Did Poet have a long way to go, or was he hollering for someone because the Rise was close by? How long had it been since the attack? How long had Poet been gone? How long had she been asleep? Minutes? Hours? Days? Each moment that passed was harder for Witch to process than the last, but she clung to the hope that Poet would return in time. Shed survived so much already, from the time where she was no more than a growing lump in her mother’s stomach. Thistle had laughed with her, all that time ago at the Rise, about how wrong their brother had been, and that he would eventually wander into the valley to see for himself that their sister had not perished.

Witch could not meet her end now. Not with a brother to prove wrong and a friend, one racing save her life, who still deserved a couple of apologies.

If she didn’t, though… Witch had to admit, she was glad shed explained to Poet why shed gone, and happier still to have seen her sister at least once.

Apr 12, 2018 01:12 PM — Post #8

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

Luckily, it seemed as though Josalyn didn’t need much more explanation after Poet’s frantic screaming and understood the situation immediately. It was time-sensitive and, just like that, she was off looking for her own supply to take.

Once they were both set to go, Poet gave her a firm nod and headed back off to the range but kept at a decent pace that wouldn’t over-exert Jos’s janky leg. After several more minutes, he led the two of them back to Witchhazel’s location. Blue eyes slid to her wound in case, miraculously, there was any chance it might not look as bad as it did before he left.

But it looked just as bad.

And without hesitation, he plopped the herbs down next to Haze but extended the stick for her to take with her own jaws. “Hold thith,” he instructed. She was probably going to need it unless she wanted to bite her tongue off.

Apr 12, 2018 09:27 PM — Post #9

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Name Player
Josalyn Vedi Madison


Josalyn’s leg hadn’t really been acting up over the past couple weeks, but she supposed she could attribute that to her relative inactivity just lounging in the meadows, feeding herself off of the surplus of small, ground-dwelling mammals she could easily catch. She felt it again once she started to run after Poet, her pace jagged and uneven, her hip feeling tight and strained. She could tell Poet was trying not to run too fast, but she powered on anyway; the survival of another wolf far outweighed her need for comfort.

They reached her before long. She was a tangle of blood in between cream and copper fur, the stench of her wound idling above her. Josalyn jogged up next to Poet, her ear twisting as she listened to him instruct her to hold the stick. She must have been a friend of his. Josalyn didn’t think anything of it; she merely crouched down next to the girl’s mangled leg, setting the cobwebs in the grass.

“It needs to be cleaned,” Josalyn said to no one inparticular. She didn’t know if it already had, but even so, another washing wouldn’t hurt before she applied the cobwebs. With a sniff, Josalyn briefly assessed the damage. It looked - and smelled - like the carnage had been caused by another large predator, the scent of a mountain lion wafting vaguely from the surface. She grimaced and rolled her tongue from her maw, beginning to lick the wound, but ready to pull away if the woman protested.

Apr 16, 2018 06:35 PM — Post #10

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Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

(OH MY GOSH I don’t know how I never noticed Jos had a bum hind leg!?!?)

Despite her best efforts, even as she pushed her thoughts to race, Witch’s vision faded in and out of focus, and the trembling of her aching body made the grass rustle moreso than the faint breeze. Like before, she should have been able to scent him coming, this time with a friend in tow.

But she didn’t.

It wasn’t until Poet was mere feet away that the sea witch lifted her head again, a faint smile attempting -and failing- to break through the grimace of agony that had settled on her maw.

The timber male didn’t give her time to say much, filling a gap of silence that she likely would have tried to close herself with words that would only hurt more. A stick…?

Oh. Understanding flashed in her glossy eyes, and Witch nodded, but turned to watch as an unfamiliar golden shewolf limped closer. The sight struck Witch with both terror and comfort; this woman had survived the marring of her leg, but at what cost? She smelled strongly of Poet and, with closer thought, Poet smelled a lot like her, too. Had he found a new mate, or did they just spend a lot of time together? Perhaps it was just the general scent of the Rise that had likely gained a new member or two since her abandonment.

“It needs to be cleaned.”

Witch winced. This was the time shed been trying to save. Time that Poet and this stranger could have used to start patching her up.

“I-I tried. Couldn’t r-reach.”

Her voice croaked out weakly, surprising even Witch; Poet had been gone longer than shed thought. Any strength shed had when he’d found her had leaked out with her blood, and as the new woman reached out to lap at the ugly wounds, Witch could only whisper a thank you: one to her, for cleaning what Witchhazel could not, to Poet, for fetching help, and to the both of them, for racing to the aide of a traitor.

“Th-thank you.”

The contact alone was like fire; Witchhazel turned her face from Josalyn to snatch up the stick, bearing down on it with a low moan and a frantic glance to Poet to see if he was as spooked as before. There was no more time to waste, but fear pulsed through her veins where the blood had left them. Did Poet believe he could help her, or was he trying just because they were friends? Did Poet think she would be okay?

One question rang out louder than the others bouncing around her head: what would happen to her if Poet did save her?

Would she have to go back to the Rise and face some punishment? Could she even survive without the help of a pack, now?

Apr 16, 2018 08:57 PM — Post #11

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

|| Short ‘n sweet :D ||

After a short moment of contemplation, Haze finally took the stick from Poet and he nodded quickly before lowering his head to scoop up some of the goldenrod he’d brought. It was a little old, but it should still do something to help with her wounds.

As Josalyn started working to clean Haze’s cuts, Poet started chewing the goldenrod into a paste while subtly wincing at the flavor. He never liked the taste of goldenrod, but he’d used it on himself so many times during his travels away from the valley that it became second nature to use.

Blue eyes flitted to Josalyn as he chewed, waiting for her to finish with the cleaning so he could slather on the medicine.

Apr 18, 2018 03:31 PM — Post #12

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Name Player
Josalyn Vedi Madison

Josalyn paused briefly to listen to the woman, who said she had tried, but couldn’t reach - but Josalyn only smiled in an attempt to soothe her and continued working on the injury. She didn’t want to stress the woman by making her think she was to blame for anything. She was the one who had gotten hurt, and regardless of whether or not she could tend to herself, Josalyn and Poet were here to clean her up.

She kept an eye on Poet as he chewed up the goldenrod. Once she was finished cleaning the wound, she pulled her head away, allowing him access to the wound if he needed. After the salve was applied, then she would pack it with cobwebs to keep it from bleeding out any further.

Apr 19, 2018 10:02 PM — Post #13

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Name Player
Witchhazel Quinzel Raven Marie

The strange golden woman was silent, but sent a smile her way that soothed the edge of Witch’s anxiety. Not that she still wasn’t blaming herself for all this, but it felt good to think that someone in the world wasn’t upset with her.

Poet didn’t meet her gaze, but it seemed more that he was concentrating than panicking. That made her feel a little better, she supposed, even if the terror of being crippled flashed behind her eyelids.

With another groan, the cream colored female flopped fully onto her side and surrendered her health to the paws of the Alliance wolves, still shivering and wondering what fate had in store for her as she curled into herself. If it weren’t for Josalyns gentle tongue rubbing against the raw wounds of her outstretched leg, or the stick she clamped firmly between her jaws, Witchhazel might’ve fallen asleep. She also mightve started rambling, but the stick helped with that, too, and with a flash of brief amusement, Witch wondered if that’s why Poet had brought it after all.

It felt nice to be free of the blood caking her fur, helped lessen the stiffness that was setting in; the wounds felt the bite of the breeze, but it was better than the sting of dirt and possible infection. The bleeding had seeped briefly stronger, but Witch knew that the herbs and cobwebs they would pack in would stop it completely at last.

Allowing her eyes to flutter closed, Witch pointed an ear in their direction in case they spoke to her, but otherwise was left alone with her thoughts for a moment.

Apr 19, 2018 11:44 PM — Post #14

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Name Player
Poet Serethi Erin

As he chewed his poultice down, his gaze never strayed from the wound. The second Josalyn pulled away, he dropped the medicine onto the gash and used his nose to push it in deeper before also pulling away to allow Josalyn to place the cobwebs.

While he watched and waited, he spat out the remaining globs he could feel in his mouth before turning to Witchhazel with a small smile. Probably with a lot of goldenrod in his teeth. “You’ll be okay, Haze,” he said reassuringly, his tone full of hope. The wound didn’t look like it had been made days ago, nor did it look to be festering already. But it was still severe. He only hoped their efforts wouldn’t be in vain.

Apr 22, 2018 07:14 PM — Post #15

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