What was all the howling about? Had Armageddon come early? Had I been misinformed of its impending descent upon us?

Alright, maybe that was a little over-dramatic but with Achilles off on his little holiday around Moladion I had been making at least a semi-serious attempt to actually assist Vega in running the pack and honestly some sort of disturbance was hardly what I needed. I scowled slightly as turned away from the far border, long white limbs loping smoothly across the plains and towards the source of the sound. Red-backed ears pricked forward, curious, as the violet of my gaze searched for anyone or anything that seemed to be in some source of great distress. If this turned out to be some ridiculous game someone was playing I was going to be decidedly unimpressed. Maybe there were some amongst us who believed great things of me, maybe there were some waiting for me to find my own pack to lead but the truth of it was still the same, I wasn’t ready- not here, not now and not yet. The thought of it….worried me still, of all the things I needed to do, wanted to do, but still struggled to comprehend. I’m fairly sure no great Leaders of the past ever sat around and let doubts eat at them, but sometimes, well, they do and I can’t help that. I shook the thoughts away for now, searching the plains still until the sharp scent of blood managed to reach my nostrils and I decided to put for more of my attention into the situation.

“Voltaire?”

His scent came along with it, my handsome young form turning rapidly in the direction the scent came from as I lunged forward. It truly was a blessing, I think, to be born with a body designed for both speed and power, a perfect blend- because I needed it now as I ran. I could see him now, laying on the ground cries of pain rising from him every few moments as I plunged forward, each muscle coiling and releasing with renewed vigour as I ran harder- slowing only as I approached, pause skidding on the loose earth. Why was he lying like that? Where was he injured? For a moment I simply stared, eyes roving over his form, searching for whatever it was that seemed to be injuring him. He was an older wolf, though a loyal one, one that had served my grandfather, my aunt and my cousin before me and for that I think at least- I owe him this much.

“Where are you-“

My own words cut off as my gaze moved to the droplets of blood on the earth beneath him, my form stepping smoothly around his own, catching a glimpse now of the stick beneath him. Had he fallen on it? Who falls on a stick? How far in was it?

“Alright, alright, I can see it, just stop moving I never have rescued anyone from a stick before. I might be able to lift you but lifting and rolling you on my own is going to be difficult. I just need to get that stick out of the ground. Alright this isn’t my most brilliant plan but have a little faith alright?”

I met his gaze then, my words holding a tease of sorts all the same, letting a crooked grin touch my features despite the fact I held no such faith in myself. I was trying to keep I’m calm I suppose, assure him everything would be fine. After all, if I was calm then he would be too and I just needed him to believe I could do this….if only so I might believe myself. I lowered the silver and white of my form to the earth, mildly displeased at the notion of covering myself in dirt before pressing my paws to either side of the stick and starting to scrape at the earth. It was hardly an easy task, claws scraping uselessly a few times before I managed to break the surface and dig down. The deeper the hole became the easier it was to dig until I reached the bottom of the stick, clawing it free of the earth until it was no longer attached. He should be able to roll now.

“Roll over, if you can, the stick is out of the ground.”

My paws and muzzle were decidedly more dirty then I ever recalled them being. Once he recovered from this I was entirely determined to have him clean them. I waited for him to at least try and move before pressing my own paws against him to assist him to roll to his other side and let me see the stick, well, sticking out of him- right between the ribs.

“How deep is it? Voltaire, can I pull it out or does it feel stuck between your ribs?”

I’ve never pulled a stick out of anyone before, even my healer training had never covered being impaled, would all the air just run out of his lungs if I did? Would blood just fountain out in a stream? That would be decidedly disgusting…..truly I hope that isn’t what happens, my gaze lingering on him still, waiting for some sort of answer at least. It had to come out, it couldn’t stay there…..

“How the hell did you fall on a stick? Have you been in a fight? You smell…..strange.”

I suppose for a scout it was somewhat embarrassing that I’d only just now noticed the scent of another wolf on him, my mind having been far too focused in, you know, unpinning him from the ground, violet gaze narrowed now in suspicion.