{Curing} the Lonely Ones {ALL SICK WOLVES}

[daina]

Artem stopped running now. He was in the Loner Territories now, as was his part of the cure: the water lily. The brute now noticed how different the flower looked after it had come out of Spirit Wood. Instead of pink and white, the petals were now almost bluish looking. He guessed that they were the main part of the cure. Artem put the plant down looked out over the territories. He sat upon a high cliff where winds wisped by. Hopefully they would carry the message far enough.

The brute brought his snout to the sky and howled a wolfsong. It was not a song of battle or loneliness, but of hope. The cure had come to the Loners as it had to the Packs, and every sick or dying wolf needed to know. The notes were carried along by more than just the small winds but the faster, stronger ones that flew through the hills and mountains and forests below. Artem hoped that he wasn't too late.

[Destiny]

An ebony femme, massive for a female, dashed in the direction of the brute. Strides long and she skidded to a halt near him. She herself had only a bad cough, but it could get much worse.

A snowy brute, twice the size of the female if not larger approached as well. A small, about a moon old, ebony and reddish female pup on his back. He eyed the wolf carefully.

A young pup was sleeping in the grass nearby. She brought her head up at the sound of other wolven.

[daina]

Artem saw the wolven enter his midst and nosed the lily toward them. "This was retrieved from Spirit Wood by much sacrifice. Its petals will vanquish this disease at last." The brute hoped that his call had reached even farther ears.

[Destiny]

Serra quickly gulped down a few petals. Then with a nod of thanks turned and disappeared into the darkness. Not even a side glanced given to the snow brute.

He inched forward, lifting a petal up to the pup on his back who quickly devoured it. Then he lapped up a few himself. Optics darting towards the other brute for a moment before Thite would turn and lope off in the opposite direction of the femme. Belle yipping on his back.

The little fae padded forward carefully. Her brownish pelt slightly tattered. She ate a few of the petals then slunk off into the darkness. Perhaps to hunt.