She had little doubt it would be Eden to return from the challenge with the scarred halfling. She was so small, it made Illyria wonder why she wouldn't just want to be in a pack rather than lead one. Perhaps, the little one simply wanted to prove she could do it to? Leaders are not made, they are born, and in Illyria's mind, Eden was a leader.
When the howl came to notify the pack of his victory, the moon-eyed femme rises on her pale blue-grey paws and goes to him. It is the second call that gets her moving faster though she does not move directly to him. Instead, something in her soul lurches and she is heading for the shoreline before she can realize where she is going. Along the way, she finds a turtle shell that had been emptied by one of the residents around Glorall. It had been bleached white on the inside, but under it, on the dome, the color remained.
The shell was beautiful and without holes, so Illyria picked it up and headed to the sea. Collecting water, she lowers the shell and then turns to go back to her leader. Unknowingly, she was following something in her blood, an instinct of sorts for medicine. Those moon-like orbs move about in her skull as she seeks out her alpha, knowing only that she would need to clean and disinfect the wounds he sustained, but little else. Setting the shell down on the beach, her large ears swerve on her head to the front and behind her, those eyes searching imperceptibly for sea weed and anything else that could help her bandage wounds.
She moves toward a piece of burned driftwood, capturing the charcoal with her teeth and looking around for something to put all of it in. A pine branch is seen not far away, and she moves to place the charred pieces of wood on the bough, the branch was sappy and Illyria did not wish to place her mouth on it, so she takes a piece of her gathered seaweed and wraps it around the end so she can grasp it without getting the amber fluid on her lips. The sap acted as adhesive, keeping the seaweed trapped there for all time.
Returning with her supplies, Illyria gives Eden a once over, seeing the small tears and cuts along his jaw and in his ruff. "Couldn't get around that broad chest, could she?" She says with a smile. "Mind if I take a look? I could clean and dress them for you. Seems that's all that is required anyway." She smiles, her pale tail waving behind her slightly. It is to show friendly intentions and shortly stops as she busies herself with collecting enough sap and crushing up the charcoal.
"Wash your jaw the best you can in that shell, and try not to open your mouth so much." Her tone is professional, those white washed eyes focusing on what seems to be the worst of the wounds. She readies the seaweed, waiting for her leader to follow instructions. The moon woman is indeed confident in her abilities, following some sort of inborn knowledge of the healing arts. It came naturally, and she would not question how she knows it, not if it saves Eden from infection.
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