Tinker sat in a darkness so complete that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. She heard Warren’s panting and she was frantic to help him. She wracked her brain to see if there was anything at all she could do to fix him, to lessen his pain. Pressing her forehead against his arm, all of a sudden odd words leaped into her  mind. She listened hard, but it wasn’t exactly pack speak but it definitely wasn’t voice either. The words came again, a little louder this time and more understandable, as if she had those words etched in her bones.<br/><br/>She knew where she had heard those words. Thinking back, she remembered exactly what Warren had done for her and she did the same thing now. Shaking out her hands, she held them over his side, but not touching him. The heat from his skin radiated to her hands. She muttered the ancient words that kept resounding in her head. Three times, she said the words, even though Warren was making guttural sounds at her. A soft silver glow lit up her hands and the skin of his chest seemed to ripple in the gentle healing light.<br/><br/>Tinker gasped as a sledgehammer hit her in the side, bowling her over. She cried out in agony. Laying back on the floor, she gulped heaving breaths of air into her lungs. With every gulp the pain lessened. After a while, it was as if she had never hurt at all. Then the lights flickered back on.