Sits a lone ranger,

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For the greater part of a day, M'Jakuna had found himself near the Ripperwood, following the trail of a small herd of deer he sought to make a meal of in due time—so he wouldn't be privy to the sound of attempted bloodshed, instead, he'd scent it and have the likes confirmed by Vistello who wasted no time in delivering him news of carrion within their borders.

M'Jakuna would quickly find, when blood hit wolf, that her presumption fell flat.

Instead of the likes of any wasted meal, he would find the body of a golden wolf, legs clearly... clearly mangled, without so much of a whine from her. "Miss?" he'd call out, hurrying his step to find himself at her side, using his muzzle to gently prod at her face, scenting her carefully. "Can you speak?" M'Jakuna gently inquired, he knew she wasn't entirely gone... "Move... anything?"

Oh, how relieved he was to know his sister was here now... his mother, even Meresankh held what he believed to be more than a lifetime of knowledge that'd be worth more than his acknowledge of the basics.

They'd have to work for the moment, though, the others weren't here and she was in clear need.

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She thought for a moment @Lore emerged, a brown figurine with kind eyes ; someone who visited within the lonely Golden Glade, but a day he came injured, then disappeared once more. So was the life of another, and bounded by a pack.. The memories of her cheeks blushed by him, but the facade of what thought to be a familiar was instead of a stranger. Was she on someone's land? Was she to be kicked out? There was a tired wheeze what was a sad attempt for an apology, but couldn't even mutter that besides heavy breathing. Her throat burned from the screaming, the vomiting and cries. Her tired, silver eyes followed him that she was alive, but barely enough.. Barely.

She was tired, wafting in and out of what was a conscious state of pain, and blood loss.

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Unresponsive, that was... M'Jakuna had to shake his head. The purpose of a leader was to lead without hesitation, doubt known to crowd the vital bits of one's mind... With a moment to contemplate, he waved Vistello off in some slight hope she'd return with another—even a bird could read the room, or so he hoped.

Until then, this was on him.

She was his to concern over, to help so long as she still breathed, and... be at her side if she passed on.

While not the smallest, this stranger was thinner than he was used to, small compared to him, and so it wasn't without a bit of maneuvering that he knew would jostle her but perhaps none more than the wounds themselves that M'Jakuna worked his head under her torso, crawling so that he could better stand without so much worry of her falling aside. "You'll be alright," he soothed, perhaps only for himself as he ground his teeth together and pressed forward to the side of the lake he knew would have a small herb storage from anyone with the wit to know would be some worth.

When he reached the spot, he laid her amongst a long grass bed, used by another but would now remain hers. "A moment, just lay here a moment," M'Jakuna stalked off to gather what he could. No utterly wise medic but he'd make do.

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Movements made her groan in pain, for though her legs were broken and unusable, her entire body was sore and bruised. She was thrown and thrashed by a beast of sorts, just one area was more severe then the rest. Her nose bled as tears was falling ; the only emotion she could truly show was that of crying and groans of pure, pure pain. Cared to and tended was unfamiliar, and a part of her was scared what was happening — but Uriel couldn't fight back, and she never did fight back.

It was trusting the fate she supposed, as she just closed her eyes with each movement, till the feeling her fur hitting a soft bed. The aroma of others filled, and all the more knew she was within the grounds of somewhere, somewhere unfamiliar. A stretch of blue was in the distance as she re-opened with blurred, tear-stained vision, a familiar land, but an unfamiliar scent.

Where was she? And who was he?

So was her last thoughts before passing out.

---

she has passed out and is now skippable

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Amvrulao hadn't been too far from her son whenever he was within the confinements of the Lake, still reeling from finding him and holding onto the worry that he might flicker from existence again -- so it was of no surprise that she came to him not long after she had scented someone she hadn't before.

The lithe woman would come forth, golden gaze seeking that of her child and there he was, seemingly in a hurry as he looked around, harvesting. "My child," she called, "you are harried. What has happened?" She searched him for marks and cuts but it was not his blood that she smelt, for he bore no wounds. Her brow furrowed as she glanced around, something golden and small in the distance.

"M'Jakuna," the mother would gasp suddenly, "what fate has fallen here today?" ^^

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Neither her brother nor her mother were being quiet with whatever was going on. Jiravkino had been exploring and well, mostly wating for M'Jankuna to be done with whatever he was doing. Clearly she should have just come along since something had happened. Vistello had flown overhead, clearly on a mission of some sort. She could hear her mother calling for M'Jankuna and combining that with the scent of blood in the air, Jiravkino didn't really have high hopes for whatever was going on.

Her ears were pinned flat as she hurried towards the pair, the scent of blood getting stronger. The scene she walked in on wasn't amazing by any means, but atleast it wasnt her brother or mother who were hurt.

No, instead her brother had a mouthful of herbs and his face was covered in smudges of quickly drying blood. Amvrulao was standing and looking incredibly worried and there was a very blatant trail leading back to what seemed to be a golden wolf. Her ear flicked as she took in the situation.

She decided to get straight to the point. "What do you need help with?" M'Jankuna knew what the injuries looked like and it was just easier to ask now, and they could grab what they needed and go back to the injured wolf. She could freak out later about all this, after all thinking your brother was dying after him dissappearing wasn't a fun time.
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M'Jakuna is covered in blood.

Meresankh smells it rather than sees it. In the dark of the evening, it's not quite simple to see. But there's also the acidic smell of vomit as well, and that's not normal. "Did an intruder cause issue?" she states, glancing over her leader. No, he doesn't seem to be outwardly injured, that she could tell. His fur would be more matted with blood. If there was a fight, he won it.

But he doesn't look proud. Her gaze becomes sharp, present, rather than the distant feeling she usually puts on. "...Am I needed?" A fight or a treatment, she guesses. It could be either at this point, and she's more than willing to try either.
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It would never cross his mind how lucky he was that his mother found them both before anyone else.

This meant nothing toward his appreciation to the wolves who would soon appear, pride would swell in his chest beneath all the fright and concern to know that even so early within their formation, they were close, true Juh'harahians that flocked to a site of need without so much as a second thought. But his mother... he knew he did not have to be a leader of no uncertainty for her, he could be lost, let the nerves chew for a heartbeat. "I'm okay, I'm okay," he reassured her, a little out of breath from the efforts to carry the stranger and his now urgent search for anything that'd aid the stranger's wounds. "It's all hers, I just found her, I swore she was dead, I don't know... I don't—" After a remorseful, tightened breath, M'Jakuna's lips would part to inform her further when the scent then sound of Jiravkino's approach turned his head. A sigh of relief.

"Tending her. The wounds look deep, something awful," he'd turn the question on her, trusting in her understanding of herbs to know what the stranger truly needed so long as he relayed what was known. "It looks like every bit of her has something cut into or bleeding, what do you need to help that? I'll make sure you have what every bit you need."

Meresankh's voice found his ears then, relieved once more by her presence; a wolf he'd known not so long as the women who shared his blood but there was no doubt that he could trust her to do as was needed. "Not a wolf, the wounds are far too deep but..." he didn't have to say it, the heavy scent of blood, sweat, and vomit would be enough to conceal the scent of any assailant. "Help Jiravkino, if whoever did this decides to stray back, I wouldn't want her with anyone else." It was then he looked back to his mother; she'd known some, her expertise came with age whereas Jiravkino's came with devotion and he'd not be surprised to know Meresankh's came from a little bit of both. Dark eyes flitting to the others then. "We'll find what we can in the patches here—now whether or not she can survive the wounds... the shock, I don't know but we'll give her the best chance we can. She's owed that much."

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Her daughter was quick to come and Amvrulao couldn't help her instinct that made her wash her vibrant gaze over Jira to ensure that she wasn't hurt, either, leaning over to deliver a kiss to the girl's nose before she returned her attentions to M'Jakuna. He was a little overwhelmed but that was to be expected, despite the experience he had now, he was still young. Not seasoned and that was fine; this was the only way one got the experience. "You acted quick, my boy. Well done," she murmured to him as she flicked her ears, frowning just a little as she cast her gaze back to the bloodied form of the girl.

He gave them their duties and she nodded, nudging her daughter to encourage her towards the injured girl whilst he and Meresankh would go and gather what herbs that they could. "The season is strange but gather what you can, we need to make poultices," she grimaced slightly, they'd need those at the very least. "If you see Lavender, please bring some. They have been known to calm a struggling soul." They could harvest some pain-killers that the girl would need to digest when she woke. Amvrulao offered them a small smile of encouragement, "be careful." Though no one seemed to be freshly around them, it was still possible who had harmed the girl would come back for more. "Come, Jira," the mother would make her way over towards the girl and she felt the way her heart lurched; she was young. An adult but that mattered not, she was still young and had likely little experience with the injuries she faced. "She is out," she told her daughter as she leaned down to listens to the girl's breathing. Steady with unconsciousness.

"We musn't move her before we know what damage has been caused, my girl," though this was likely what her daughter already knew, she couldn't help the way she went into Mother-mode. "Her legs," Amvrulao muttered as she grimaced, seeing how they seemed to take the brunt of whatever had attacked her. "Let us avoid them, clean what we can for the moment," she would make work on cleaning smaller wounds, knowing that she couldn't stop the bleeding without the herbs but she would do what she could to slow the ones that needed it and clean the shallows. ^^

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