<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/ffNSOak.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Character name</strong>: Astir<br/><strong>Who:</strong>Tsaghani, Son' Lahleli, Astir, L'aen, Hiti, Open<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Shaman House<br/><strong>When: </strong>Midday, 8th Day of the Hunger Moon<br/><hr/><br/>The throbbing ache of the penetrating pain was intense. His shoulder felt like chewed up hamburger but next to his leg it was nothing. Sharp spikes of pain jabbed at him every now and again when he shifted slightly, uncomfortable to say the least. It was an effort on his part not to just tear off the bandages and pull the thing out with his teeth heedless of what he damaged on it's way out. He wanted it out of him! Yet he knew it wasn't going to be an easy operation. The arrow was barbed with backward facing hooks, small but enough to grab at flesh. He had felt it when the thing shifted as he came down the hill. The wooden splinters hand worked themselves deeper, becoming soft as they soaked in his blood. They would crumble to pieces if Danae wasn't careful. This was not going to be easy and it was most likely going to take the better part of an hour if Danae worked quickly. The risk of permanent damage with accidentally severing a nerve was high. The risk of too much blood loss was high and the risk of infection was high. She would need to pull out the hot irons to stanch the flow as she worked. It was likely she may need to use them more than once. That was just his leg. His shoulder was less bad but it was torn up pretty good. She would have to trim away dead flesh and close it as best she could. Still there was no way it was going to be closed all the way so he would have to have bandage changes frequently to keep infection away.<br/><br/>He caught Danae's eye and saw the worry in it. His ears perked up and he gave a slight nod of reassurance. Did she think he would leave Ts'itu if she was hurt? Never. The fact that he was here would tell Danae that Ts'itu was fine. Her unasked question answered she turned to her work and he lay his great head on his paws again. The smell of burning flesh came to him and set his fur to hackling. L'aen had taken a seat behind him and he leaned up against the boy as he began to speak to him in hushed soothing tones. It didn't matter what he said because the gentle tones of his voice seemed to take his mind from the pain that gnawed at him. He even let L'aen touch him, though his hand would come away wet with the blood of his former pack mates that that Astir had killed so coldly. That same violence could be turned on him. It was an unnerving thought perhaps.<br/><br/>Watching the fire he had one ear flicked back at L'aen and one to the room. So the boy was named after the sunlight? Perhaps that was why he felt drawn to him. He was named for the moon and it's heavy shadowed mystery. The two were opposite ends of a force at work. It was only natural they were drawn to one another. The boy's story was a sad one and it reminded him of his own. He had lost his mother when he was very young. There was nothing malicious or ill intentioned in the boy, especially when he lay down so close to him, so trusting of him and yet he head held his life in his hands today. He could have drawn that blade, cut that throat. He could have treated him like the others of his former pack.<br/><br/>Danae called him from his thoughts by saying he was next. His ears went back and he let out a low rumbling growl and didn't move at all. He didn't try anything he just didn't let anyone near him. He lay like a great blood soaked beast, a rug on the floor and refused to budge. He had that look in those golden eyes, the look that said he was going to bite someone if they hurt him and he wouldn't be able to do much to restrain himself. Being in his wolf form made him a bit more wild. It was unfortunate that he had never learned to control himself, to tame the wolf within. progress was slow and the wolf was strong within him even while in human form. It was perhaps a byproduct of living in a sort of survival mode while growing up.<br/><br/>The growl only became louder when Seni offered to hold someone down. That someone most likely being him. Still he didn't move from his place on the floor. His head didn't even raise from his paws. The urge to find a dark place to curl up and sleep off his wounds was strong. Under tree roots within an earthen den was what he desired, the scent of mother earth all around him to dampen the scent of blood, to fold him up from the world safe and quiet. It was too bright here, too many people and the scent of blood washed him. Blood of the enemy, blood of his pack, blood of his own all spiced with the sharp scent of fresh herbs.<br/><br/>Hiti the red head approached him fearlessly with a blanket. He didn't growl at her but fixed her instead with the sharp and intense gaze of his golden eyes. She could almost ride him he was so big, not as big as kon, no kon she could most likely ride like a horse. Indulgently he allowed her to drape the blanket over him. Despite the fire he was cold. The loss of blood was making it's self felt. He was no longer bleeding at the moment but as soon as Dane messed with it he would be. He wondered what was keeping kon and Ts'itu. They should be back any moment now...