Sorcha doesn't doubt that the warrior male would be a bit put off by her request to not kill the beast. So many warriors got into the bloodlust that they did not stop to pay attention to their surroundings. Indeed, she had been there before the bear but that hardly matters. In Sorcha's mind the bear was both in the right and in the wrong. She should have made herself known to Sorcha prior to attacking and Sorcha would have made herself scarce so that they family could enjoy a good meal of berries in peace, yet maybe Sorcha should not have slept so close to a berry bush that she knew was often picked at. Either way it didn't matter now. The deed was done and she had managed to come out unscathed save for a few lost hairs, but she could handle that in the long run. It was Maverick who had gotten the bad end of the stick but they were superficial wounds. It would just take clever work to keep them from becoming infected.

As they draw away from the fray the bear stays back with her young. They were her sole existence really and she did not need to chase after a pair of young wolves when they had finally left her alone. Sorcha felt somewhat bad about the wound on the bear - the female needed her health to take care of her young. But she also knew the way of the world; if Maverick had not come along she might very well be the one with a wound and it wouldn't be superficial either. So she smiles at him in a thankful manner even as she pauses and he continues in a circling walk around her, trying to cool down from the thrill of battle while her mossy eyes take in his size and stature.

She does not quite catch the word that he mumbles, only the tone it is used in and her eyes flick to him with a hidden mirth for she knows well what he is thinking. "Children need their parents," she says in a most calm manner before beginning to search for what was needed to take care of the brawny male. Couldn't let him suffer on her behalf anymore than he had. When she draws near there comes to him a stillness she has not yet experienced with him, promptly sitting down like she had bowled him over and she sets the moss on the ground by his feet with careful calculation before leaning forward and licking his wound. Some might find such things rather intimate, a private matter even when wounded, but Sorcha did not mind such personal space anyways when it came to things like this. Healing had been an art she had studied on occasion but it seemed like Maverick had more cause to know it than her. Once she cleans the wound decently she turns her face towards his so that only an inch or so separates them.

"Thank you for helping save me. I have no doubt that things would have been a tad more difficult if you hadn't come along. I am Sorcha, of Spirane. What may I call you, my brawny savior?" Turning her attention back to the moss she grabs it and begins to press it into his shoulder wound with care. "As for Elderberry, I think we might want to stay clear of any berries for the moment. Maybe after the family leaves."