no one's sending you a miracle (so you get a meresankh instead)

for @Uriel

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Meresankh's offered to take a shift to help the young golden woman with the severe injuries. She's ruled out the brute that's been refusing to leave Bluewater as the cause; whoever did this to the young woman was massive, probably had claws. It's enough to set things on alert for a moment, because who knows what sort of creature could come back? Well, for now, they've decided to not move her. And it's Meresankh's turn to check up on her, to make sure everything is going as it should.

She approaches Uriel, making as much noise as possible so her arrival isn't surprising. She calls over her footsteps, "It's a shame that it's drizzling," so that her voice can be heard as not a threat. Then she arrives, a professional smile smeared across her face. It's hard to act like looking at injured people is pleasant, even if for Meresankh it's not too surprising. Even if she's seen such gore, she doesn't like to repeat it.

What's surprising is that Uriel is up. Well, that happens sometimes, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "How are we this morning? Hungry, thirsty?"
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It was hard to accept how she was. Though alive — she was a burden once more. There was a grimace to even look at her legs that refused to listen, she couldn't stretch them, she couldn't move them ; but by the Gods, somehow they cursed her where she could feel it all. The twitching, the attempts, the healing — it hurt so. Sobs would filter through the den was she was scared, and frightened, she was in pain. She wanted comfort but the comfort she truly sought would not be here, at least so she continued telling herself — because she didn't deserve their.. Kindness, and didn't understand still why they continued tending to her.

If they threw her out, she would die. But so was the struggle of the cycle of wolves.

She would gaze out of the den, noting the rain that drizzled. Vaguely she could make out more forest, the trees that hung and swayed, the birds that sung but were blocked by the sound of the light pour. A daydream, as she flinched lightly at the sound of another. It was someone else that was also attending to her ; a fluctuation of different medics in and out through her sobbing pains and groans. The murmurs of thank you, with the touch of guilt upon her voice..

They were tall, mix of blue and golds that felt unusual but regal at the same time. She was nice, so Uriel dubbed ; but she didn't wish to continue her burden, ".. I am alright, thank you very much," for all she could do was currently bow her head and usher thanks.

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Meresankh wonders if it's hesitation that keeps the other quiet, or if the injuries make it difficult to eat and drink. Not that she's sure how to handle hydration with the legs as mangled as they are. Moving her to the river would be difficult. This... would have been so much easier if she had thumbs. These useless paws are taunting her. The reality is that it's probably going to have to be half-digested food to get hydration into the other wolf, and that'd be disgusting, an act usually reserved only for pups.

"Well, I'm going to check out your injuries anyway," she says. "I need to make sure the blood's clotting and that nothing's infected." They might need specific herbs to help if the wounds get worse. "At least, you being awake is a good sign. Can you tell me if you're having any fits of delirium? Feeling feverish?" She approaches the other wolf carefully, moving into position first to check the minor cuts and scrapes along the front of her body. The more mangled back legs will have to come later.

She does note that they haven't moved since Uriel was put here. Perhaps they hurt too much to move properly.
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They were a rather blunt one, but in times of so it was appreciated. The entire family was in and out like a clockwork, introducing themselves and inspecting of everything all over. Uriel gave off a meek appearance, her ears was always submissively back and often tucked into her own chest. She wasn't sure how to truly interact with them, whether what would be said would end up her being thrown out — but even the golden dame knew that was a rather farfetched experience, they had been.. Very, very kind. But fear was wild within the soul.

She shook her head. Overall just tired, pains and bruising but she did not feel a wavering expression or slightly heated. There was an opposite of feeling cold as wind lightly brushed in.

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This one certainly is meek! It's the sad thing about this, really, because Meresankh doesn't really think this girl deserved what happened to her. It's worrying, since whatever did this could be back. And then they'll have to deal with all sorts of horrible things. Given their plans for the Juh'harah, it would be a threat to their entire way of life if the beast came through and destroyed their home. But at least they've ruled out the golden man; that would be an unfortunate revisit to past enemies.

"That's good," she says at the head shake. "Just be sure to let us know if you start feeling those symptoms." She starts to move towards the back, checking to make sure the wounds aren't still bleeding-- or worse, leaking pus. She carefully leans in, checking the skin nearby to see if it's showing any shooting red lines of infection. It's hard, given that some fur still clings to the skin. What she wouldn't give for an electric razor! The things she could do if her body had thumbs come to mind, but she's working off limitations forced by biology.

The cursed things.

It occurs to her that she wouldn't even know what to do if the wounds got infected. Amputation would certainly be lethal with their limited medical supplies. The best they could do is herbal remedies, or perhaps hoping that a specific mold or fungus is the right one to fight bacteria. She didn't even have anything better than her own spit to clean wounds.

It's a miserable situation, but she's going to remain chipper despite it.
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The last wolf she saw was M'Jakuna, and was also the first person she saw upon awakening. Since then many come and go.. Treating her as a patient that she was. Though Uriel remained vigilant, not a fear they would harm her, but a general guilt that she was a burden, "..Thank you, for uhm.. Treating me." There was a feeling of a blush that soared through her neck and a heated face.

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Meresankh, ever the picture of jubilation (except for when the realization of her body closes in and she's choked by the wrongness of her shape), offers a wide smile to Uriel. "You're welcome, dear," she says, leaning in to inspect the skin closer. "We wouldn't imagine simply leaving you injured in the middle of nowhere. That's hardly the right thing to do." She can see signs of infection. That's not good. With winter in sight, the herbs in the mountains are not going to be easily accessed. And she hadn't finished her catalogue of the plants around here.

So she does the next-best thing and leans down and licks the wound. Metallic blood fills her mouth. It tastes disgusting, but she's had worse in her mouth (pups are without a doubt the most disgusting things on the planet). She hopes it doesn't cause too much pain, but given the legs haven't moved in a while, she wonders how much Uriel can feel.

She pulls her head back up after a few moments, checking to make sure her patient isn't in too much pain.
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