---

The storm had long since drowned out any sense of time.

Minutes. Hours. Esmé could not have said.

The valley had become a thing of noise and motion. The river howled somewhere beyond the trees, swollen and furious beneath the relentless rain. Mud slid beneath her paws with every careful step, carrying broken branches and uprooted brush downhill toward the water's waiting maw.

She had almost missed him.

A dark shape tangled amongst the wreckage left behind by the landslide. At first glance he looked dead. At a second glance, unfortunately for him, he wasn't.

Esmé altered course immediately.

No hesitation or panic in her stride. Just a quiet shift in direction as her focus narrowed entirely upon the body half-consumed by both mud and debris.

Adult male. Large, larger than her with extensive trauma. Potential crush injuries and possible hypothermia. Conscious, but barely.

The mental list formed automatically.

By the time she reached him, the physician had already slipped into the familiar detached clarity that emergencies demanded. Emotions could be sorted later, patients came first.

She stepped carefully over a splintered root and lowered herself beside him.

Don't move. Her voice was level and firm, but not unkind. It was simply non-negotiable.

Only then did she begin assessing the damage.

The smell hit her first.

Blood, wet earth, and freshly torn flesh.

Her gaze lowered to followed the source.

For perhaps the first time in several minutes, Esmé stopped.

Oh.

Well.

That was unfortunate.

A pine branch protruded from what used to be his right eye.

She stared at it for exactly one heartbeat before continuing her examination.

The eye was gone, that much was obvious. There was no salvaging it. More importantly, however, the branch appeared to be stemming some of the bleeding by virtue of still being embedded in his skull.

Removing it here would be idiotic. So she wouldn't.

Her attention drifted elsewhere as thoughts gathered in her mind.

Shallow breathing and a rapid pulse showed signs of shock and a possible concussion. Blood loss was highly probitable with potential internal injuries. He was also pinned beneath debris. One side of his body appeared twisted awkwardly beneath the mud.

Not good. Not immediately fatal, but certainly not good.

The fact he was awake at all was either fortunate or deeply inconvenient depending on how cooperative he intended to be.

One pale ear flicked as she studied him.

Then, finally, her gaze settled on his remaining eye.

Well.

A brief pause.

You are currently impaled, buried, concussed, and halfway to becoming part of the landscape.

Esmé carefully began clearing smaller branches and loose debris from around his shoulders and neck, taking care not to shift the larger weight trapping him.

Please do not talk.

Another branch was nudged aside as mud clung to her forelegs as she worked and rain dripped steadily from her ears.

And despite the horrific state he had been found in, Esmé's expression remained frustratingly calm. As though wolves arrived with branches through their skulls every day.

You are alive. She stated, lowering her head slightly and checking his pupils through the mud and rain. For the moment, let's try to keep it that way.

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