<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/65IEnCn.png)</div><br/><strong>Character name</strong>: Astir<br/><strong>Who:</strong>kon, Ts'itu, Son' Lahleli, open, npc bad guys<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Sadghan Lake and Forest<br/><strong>When: </strong>8th Day of the Hunger Moon<br/><hr/><br/>The arrow head was lodged deep, having glanced off bone. It was a hell of a shot and most likely was meant for his heart. The wooden shaft was broken and splintered, soaked in blood. There was a high chance of infection from the wooden shards if they were not removed soon, and in there entirety. However like the head of the arrow it's self it would take some time and digging to extract all of the broken splinters. This operation called for the hand of a skilled surgeon who was methodical and precise. His shoulder wound was also very bad and messy. It would not be possible to stitch layers of tissue back together neatly like you would a wound from a sword. It would have to be wrapped and treated daily for some time. The risk of infection and tissue death due to lack of blood supply from the swelling would have to be monitored closely. Needless to say he was in rough shape.<br/><br/>Astir couldn't smell anything but blood. His own and the blood of his enemy that still stained his muzzle with dark crimson. The look of Ts'itu's face, the pain there was worse than anything. She had sent him into harms way and he had done his job. He usually didn't pay such a high price for it, but when he did get himself into a jam it tended to be fairly bad when it did happen. He licked at his wounded shoulder as she told him to stay in wolf form. He, of course had no intention of shifting. it would only complicate things. He didn't think she got his message. She was nearly a brick wall in that regard so he wasn't surprised.<br/><br/>When L'aen approached him he snarled, barring teeth. He was not a tame wolf and when he was like this he was dangerous. More beast than man. He didn't want anyone to touch him. Returning to licking, it soothed the pain that bathed his senses. How dare the Ghaltsel pack over step there bounds! How dare they attack them! All for what? This boy, this gentle, soft spoken boy. A boy he was starting to like despite himself. Yes he liked him even though he was a sprit walker, even though he was from the Ghaltsel pack. He had been growling, a low rumble in his throat. Slowly it became softer and softer until it died out all together. Golden eyes fixed upon L'aen.<br/><br/>'Bind them tightly.' he said mind to mind to L'aen, giving thoughts of the right amount of pressure that would be required to stanch the blood flow. Then he looked away from him giving him permission to touch him. He was a difficult patient at the best of times. It wasn't every day he allowed his wounds to be treated with such little fuss. Normally he did his own doctoring for minor wounds.<br/><br/>His ear twitched as he caught the comment Ts'itu made to Son'Lahleli about carrying him. Was she mad?! He had to weigh at least 250 pounds if not more. Kon could most likely handle that sort of load but he was hurt too and he wasn't going to allow that. Besides he was too proud to allow himself to be carried. Unless he was on the edge of death he wouldn't let anyone carry him if it was within his power to refuse. It was too humiliating. Being injured was bad enough but to be carried back into the village was more than he could bear.<br/><br/>He snarled and growled through the process of binding his wounds but he managed to keep still and not bite L'aen. When the boy was done he looked at him again, satisfied with the work he had done and gave his cheek a brief lick before he got to his feet stiffly, pain making his vision swim for a moment before he steadied himself and started for home. He just snarled at Ts'itu if she tried to get him to be carried. It was true he was a stubborn creature and his pride as a warrior wouldn't let him debase himself further by being carried. Not when his pride already stung from taking such a beating and having been surprised by them too.<br/><br/>The cold had seeped into his muscles and It made for painful, stiff walking until they warmed again. He knew it was a sign that he had lost a bit more blood than he thought. He didn't put his left hind leg down which meant he was forced to use his torn shoulder. The snow was an annoyance as it slowed him and drained his energy but he persisted, keeping a good pace despite the way he was hurt. It wasn't like he hadn't had to do this before. he knew how to handle himself and he stopped when he needed to and pushed on when he thought he was ready.<br/><br/>He looked back a few times but could not see Son'Lahleli, not until the last time he looked and he could see her far away and then she fell. he couldn't scent her as the wind was in the wrong direction and he turned around, concerned for a moment before he saw Kon pick her up. She must be injured. He quickly assessed the situation and determined there was not much he could do. It would be counter productive of him to go back. However if he made it to the village first perhaps he could raise the alarm and get help to Son and Kon faster. He looked up at Ts'itu a moment before he turned and started heading for the village. It was her choice what she wanted to do and he only had so much strength left before his body wouldn't take the strain any more. He wanted to help her but he knew he couldn't and this came from years of experience in different battles. You had to choose and the choices were not easy ones to make.<br/><br/>When he finally got to the hill top overlooking the village he let out a long, loud alarm howl before he carefully made his way down the hill. This way the others would be ready to help when Kon and Son came.