lick your wounds

Eira... Shooting pain ricocheted up the forearm over the knee which had bent, still swifter than sight, and between the contorting lines of panic and heat swelling through her face, Eira became suddenly aware of another figure slicing through the tangled shadows by the portal. Vynter! He came upon the scene so quickly and dauntlessly, placing himself like steadfast fortification between the predator and the prey. The scrawny yearling’s eyes ignited with hope renewed and a smile resonated the same sentiment, dragging her thin sooty lips free of their heavy frown. The moments which followed were lost to Eira, who remained nestled like a wounded sparrow upon the fragrant earth behind her saviour; from her perspective, though she could not see him any longer, the wolf was quickly deterred by the imposing (according to the frail girl), figure of the colt - there was no escalation of tempers or frenzied fighting to follow. In fact, her painted friend soon turned amid few words from their aggressor and lowered his soft, whiskered muzzle to her leg. “It’s not bad”, her thoughts insisted demurely as her dark blue eyes crawled fondly across his pale, naked forehead. Once again, she  didn’t realise that they might appear tangible now in his mind in place of words. The pounding in her heart continued, even as fear for the lingering wolf subsided, and as Vynter caressed her swollen, misshapen joint, the orphan watched adoringly. In the same moment (though to her it felt like an eternity), a low, rumbling voice crossed the distance towards them, and Eira found her nose lifting, ears tuned and surprised gaze searching for the corresponding owner - surely not the wolf…? She blinked. Astonishment formed like a thick fog in her mind. The creature who had looked by all accounts, so savage, was transforming before her startled stare into something that was strikingly similar to herself… to Vynter! Confused brows crouched down across her eyes, and a soft snort rattled against the inner-side of her velveteen nostrils. Whether or not her friend had finished his inspection, Eira began to climb upwards, and, while visibly favouring the aching limb, she prompted the tentative colt’s attention to turn. Their strange company’s skull was marked similarly to the canine which had been, though he appeared now, to be considerably less lethal. Then he asked for their names… Eira shrank timidly towards her coloured herd-mate.   "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden