Dark crimson blood spattered the grass in a ruptured trail. On injured leg and losing consciousness, the warrior made his way to the healing grounds. He was having difficulty moving but he knew he couldn’t stay at the hunting grounds. There wasn’t anything to help block the blood from flowing out of his body there or even any ointments or herbs to slow it down until his natural immune system kicked in. Still, he moved without stopping or faltering. There nothing he could do about the blood and he was internally thankful that the situation had occurred within the pack-lands and not on enemy grounds. Some of the blood had dried off into flimsy layers but overall, he still looked like a madman who had just been on a rampage, slashing and dicing a flurry of unlucky victims. The almost ripped-off ear, the tenderized foreleg, the shoulder that looked like a large chunk had been scooped out of it, the torn muzzle and the various cuts over his body. Dizziness was starting to set in too. Despite his predicament, Tye’s expression, though slightly distant, was still emotionless. He had with-drawn entirely into himself, conserving any ounce of energy he had to concentrate on staying awake. He would not rest until he had called for help, any help for he could not afford to be picky when he was dying. His heart yearned for one though and it was her that he was primarily calling for as he slowed to a steady halt, lifting his head and releasing a howl into the air.

And for the first time, it wavered in its intricacies just ever so slightly. It was still strong but his wounds had robbed him of some of its power. The tiny in-betweens that served as strength were weakened. Letting the howl fade naturally, Tye dropped to the ground onto his side with a thud as his legs gave out from under him. He stared unseeingly at the leafy shrubs through a veil of red. His blue eyes were blank. Blood began to pool from his foreleg onto the ground. His face was drenched with it. It’d slowed down a little from his ear but most of his face was a bloodbath as well as the rest of his pelt, bright red gleaming among a mass of onyx. It trickled down his side, soaking his fur. The pain was absent, a side effect of the blood loss no doubt. And in his haze, memories of past voices hurtled back to him. Of the harsh voice of his father and brother, telling him that he was weak. His eyes started to drift shut unwillingly, strips of shimmering blue peering out. Consciousness was starting to trickle away.

His eyes almost drifted shut, sound fading into oblivion as a peaceful sort of slumber seeped into his bones. There was the feeling that he’d missed, similar to floating in mid-air. His howl hadn’t worked it seemed, or maybe he was out of luck. He had evaded death so many times before. Maybe his old friend had finally caught up with him. Chuckling, his eyes slid shut of their own accord. A faint sound rang through the air into his ears followed by something firm pushing hard into him. Through the thick layer of blood he smelt her, the familiar scent of rusted earth and fresh herbs, the fragrance of comfort and homeliness, warmth. His call had been answered when it could’ve been easily unheard by ghosts of wolves, biding their time until their bodies decided to come back. Wasn’t that a miracle? Cracking one hazed blue eye open slowly, his vision coming into blurry focus he squinted up at her taking in the beauty of her features for a short moment before willing his legs to move with a grunt. She was tugging at his scruff, urging him to move, to go the den and he wanted to. He would. He managed to stand, bending a little at the injured foreleg and as she lapped the blood off his face which couldn’t have tasted good but he appreciated the gesture all the same and turned his muzzle so that it brushed hers, giving her a grateful lick. He leaned against her and with her guidance, limped the rest of the way back into the den. Sinking back onto his side once he was inside, he stared at the cave wall opposite him blankly hearing Cliché’s voice, her words of encouragement and he embraced them both with his whole heart. Glancing at her with soft blue eyes as she hurried about getting the relevant herbs, he said, “I’m glad you came.”      
 
He thought he owed her an explanation about how he came to be in this state but that could wait until she had finished doing whatever it was that was necessary at the moment. It would probably distract her. When he was watching her in a state of activeness like this it made him love her even more. Though he didn’t recognize any of the herbs she was gathering and applying to his wounds he made a mental note to ask her later. The cobwebs, he understood. Wiping the remaining dried blood from his face with the back of his paw, pieces of blood came off in flakes he heard her whisper in his mangled ear. It was slightly gurgled due to the severity of his ear but still audible. He just gazed at her with the most affection that he had ever felt in his entire life utterly devoid of anything but fondness and the hint of a lopsided half-smile which remained as it was even when she was grinding healing agents to apply to his mauled leg. His injuries so far consisted of a mauled leg, torn muzzle, various cuts across his torso, forelegs and chest and most pressingly, his wounded shoulder and ear. He said lucidly, "Before you yell at me, just know that I wasn't the one started this fight."

occ: It's okay

He reached up to place his foreleg around her shoulder hesitantly, carefully as she put her head against his coat making sure not to shake the cobwebs off his foreleg and caressed her fur with a heavy paw slightly awkwardly. His heart was thudding far too fast. Not even the pricks of pain that managed to nip his shoulder could distract him from the sensation. This was a feeling he was still not completely accustomed to. It made him feel disorientated and a little light-headed though that was most likely the side effects of the blood loss. Those words seeped into his ear, winding their way around his heart until it had it in a choke-hold. Love. She loved him too much to be upset. And he took every one of those words to heart. He felt a twinge of guilt and at the same time, he was also happy for being able to be with her for no other reason than it made him feel more whole and warm than he had ever been in his entire life. Was this what real love felt like? The desire to stay with one other soul, with no logical reason or motive except for the simple fact that it just felt good. Nodding slightly as she gave a silent message to stay still, he let his eyes close. Though he couldn't help but peel open one eye to peer after her, unable to keep his eyes off her form. Was her coat really shining? Hmm, maybe he'd gone delirious. Fur couldn't be that shiny. But she looked so mesmorizing then and there. Then she disappeared from the entrance to collect her herbs, leaving him with an image in his mind and the sounds of nature to listen to. Fun. The burbling of a creek nearby, water lapping against stone, of the ground grinding underfoot and the beating of his own heart. It was soothing in a way. Soon he heard her come back and slid open his eyes, mired with slight grogginess. As she began to apply the leaf wrap, he watched her without a noise, silent appreciation emanating from his blood-marred face. Charming in its own way.

At her instructions his ears perked up in a single motion of happiness and he managed to smirk. Words, impish words, were starting to form on his tongue until he caught the change in her expression and hurt in her eyes. The tone of her voice was something he didn't mind. She was the healer, not him and he was used to strictness. It was necessary at times and healing counted as one of those times. Tye suspected that she had just been so focused on healing that she'd forgotten about controlling her voice which didn't bother him at all. Concern ghosted across his own features, a momentary window of something real and warm in an ice-cold heart that had been chipped away by the touch of another. He began to open his lips to ask her why when she suddenly apologized her ears flattening and lay her head on his stomach, burying her face apologetically into his upper back. Her tone. She'd wanted to apologize for her change of tone. He stared at her for a moment, the remnants of concern morphing into bewilderment then pure, unadulterated affection. How could he have been so lucky to find someone so forthright and strong but so gentle and kind at the same time? A low raspy chuckle rumbled from his chest, tinged with humour. He leaned over and nipped at her ear, grinning slightly at her, "Hey it's okay. I'm still alive. Don't worry if the fight didn't kill me, you won't." He lapped up some water gratefully before speaking again considering his words in a slow, steady voice, "As for what happened...I was hunting at the Moors and was attacked by Magnus because he thought I was our Alpha. From what I gathered from his ranting, Magnus asked Steele if he could be mates with Chiara and he was granted it but only if Steele could have her pups as well."

As she positioned herself so that her body was intertwined with his, snout going underneath his he closed his eyes contently and a low growl of pleasure came from his throat. “Yes terrible,” He murmured. He met her gaze with hers, understanding what she was saying without words. She didn’t agree with the turn of events nor did she seem happy with it. He didn’t really either. There was really no one except Steele who could be happy with the news unless Chiara had suddenly been harbouring some secret love for their Alpha all this time. There were roughly four males in this pack he knew of with more females. He suspected that the Alpha had it in his mind to mate with at least two being Katyusha and Chiara. If he mated with the rest it would lead to in-breeding within the pack which had a high chance of birth defects and deformities coming out in future generations such as bone disease and a chance that they would be weak and small. If Steele wanted to create a strong, healthy pack that could spread and combat Helidos if need be, it didn’t make any sense. And if it was his lineage he was concerned about, then passing on his genes to off-spring that didn’t have any genes in them that had no possibility of being defective would guarantee healthy future generations that would carry his legacy. Having the remaining males mate with their respective partners would then make these pups available and provide an abundant amount of powerful, strong offspring for the future generation to easily dominate Helidos. At least half of those wolves would most likely carry Steele’s genes in them and pass them on. Therefore, allowing at least half of the population to mate with partners that didn’t have his genes would be the best way to ensure his lineage continued until infinity so that in the end his lineage would survive. So mating with more than half of the female population in the pack was senseless and self-sabotaging. Unless his plan was to ultimately end up with an army of deformed, malformed, disease-ridden wolves. Two wolves would guarantee at least six to eight pups and if half of that litter mated with other pups then Steele’s genes would be passed on anyway and there would be no chance of any hereditary birth defects from his genes occurring. It was, by all accounts, in his best interests. Surely his Alpha wasn’t stupid. So he agreed. With two sets of off-spring and different fathers that was asking for trouble but maybe that was what he wanted. Although, his respect for his superior had waned a little. The females in his old pack had been somewhat stronger, much stronger with a sense of self, ambition and pride that wasn’t solely tied to their reproductive organs. He had thought Chiara was not that kind of female but perhaps she was doing it so that she could have pups with Magnus.

His tail swayed, brushing the ground as she spoke again, elaborating her thoughts on the fight. He growled slightly, a flash of fangs showing. His blue eyes washed over with restrained anger. He had done exactly that, preventing himself from killing him even though the other had wanted to do exactly that. He had had to hold so much back when at multiple times during the fight, he could have snapped his neck or torn not just one ear, but both ears off as he had tried to do to him or gauged a gaping hole in his stomach. And it was true. He would have been angry in Magnus’ situation. But he felt a little twitch of hurt when it seemed like she had sided with the auburn wolf. He looked at her, his light eyes harder than even ice and said, “So I guess I should’ve let him kill me. And you know, next time I’m angry I’ll go on a rampage.” Tye truthfully, didn’t care about the opinions of the other wolves but he cared for Cliché’s. When she continued he settled, content. There had really been nothing beneficial that had come from the fight. In the end Magnus was in the same position as he was, only worse for wear. Tye had done what he could to help his friend release his anger before it could overwhelm him and make him do something he could regret later. And he had gotten off possibly a little worse than him. Cuts and bruises would heal quicker than a broken leg. The ear would heal as would his foreleg but he knew his ear would never be the same again. At her question he said, “I would.” He paused, lapsing into thought and grunted, “I was going easy on him. A dead wolf is of no use to the pack in any circumstances and I had to keep his safety as well as mine in check.” He was surprised to hear her speak ill of Steele and licked her back, nuzzling the side of her head to comfort her.

When she further mentioned about the possibility of her being impregnated by their Alpha his expression grew dark, the shutters in his eyes coming down making them hard. Silence ensued. It was a thought he didn’t like and he liked it even less when he thought about her first question. When he spoke it was low and dangerous, containing a flint of something that was vicious and ruthless, “Is that a trick question? What do you expect me to say? That I’d cherish them and love them like they are mine? I could not care for pups as if they were my own if they were not mine, even if they’re yours.” His voice changed, eyes meeting hers, “But I wouldn’t do anything to them. And I would fight risking death to protect you from him.” There was that notion that he could grow to love them. He had seen similar things happen in his old pack but he had never thought he would be in that same position. And he was not sure if he could do that. Not sincerely at least. He would, like any other male, care more for his own brood more than others that were sired from another male even if it was his Alpha. And he had no doubt that Steele would probably think the same. He was also not afraid to lay down his life for Cliché’s honour and dignity. The problem was that death, even a slow and painful one, was not the only outcome. Exile and torture were possible too, as well as emotional and mental repercussions on the pups that had the misfortune to be born in the middle of such a scenario. And she too would suffer. He would probably hate his Alpha with every last fibre of his being but hatred only led to revenge which led to death. That was a game he wasn’t going to play. He couldn’t hurt her like that but to care for pups that were not his? That was asking for too much on his part.