“Him... not like me.”
She may as well confess it now, in case Euphemia is expecting a willing patient. “Him may be take as betrayal.”
Iglux̂ had been so certain in dawnbreak, and somewhere between the pass and reaching the valley floor that certainty has thinned. She risks Cen thinking the same. Bringing an unfamiliar woman to tend his son's wounds so long ago closed.
But they weren't healed, and stubbornness has overridden the silver's complacency. She gazes beyond a shoulder at the healer, maw full of strong green roots, and pulls her lips apologetically. Crying wind knew these storms, has lived them. It hardly seems just to subject Euphemia to the tempers of lanzadoii men.
Lithe legs freeze up as she strides the groaning rocks and withering silence of the woods, pelt clinging thickly in winter dampness.
The air, after testing, tells her Caan is near.

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

Euphemia followed her friend through the brief expanse of north that lay between her land and theirs. A myriad of emotions blossom within her deepest gut. She wondered what Iglux thought of her homeland: she had never before introduced a friend to these lands. Tutors, yes. New members of the pack, for certain. But a friend? That was simply out of the question.

Her sisters were the only ones who had friends, and Euphemia had her herbs.

The maiden also wondered about this young man, who was to become her patient. In truth, Euphemia had never had a tried-and-true patient before. All of the bad things that had ever befallen her packmates occurred before she decided to re-devote herself to a positive application of her studies, and not the previous application, which simply caused her stress from the acknowledgment of her non-doing. He was unwilling, and she, a novice – it sounded like a recipe for disaster.

(but Euphemia rather liked a good disaster.)

She worked hard at the repetition of several mantras that spoke of her capability and intuitive nature, assuring herself that she would be able to handle the situation as it did not sound very dire. If anything, this was likely an introduction and opportunity to glean his health information. There were always resources to consult that were far more knowledgeable than she, if she felt it was out of her realm.

Her ability to ponder these things was made easier by the fact that she and her friend still did not speak the same language, and therefore the small talk between them was very little.

The few words that the northern woman did share with her, did not soothe her greatly. At that point, the only thing that kept Euphemia from having an entirely negative expectation was the fact that she too was a bit unwilling at times, and she could easily understand why this boy would want to keep this issue of his private. Perhaps he could perceive her empathy, and that would be the path towards a solution.

Euphemia also thought that it would have been better if she had brought a translator instead of the bundles of late summer herbs.

It’s okay, the waif affirmed her friend softly, keeping her words simple, wondering how fast she’d be able to learn the Saatsine language if she applied her keen mind to it. What’s his name?

---

The women would find their patient at his usual spot by the lake. This day the boy enjoyed an afternoon nap beneath a blanket of snow. His body coiled like a snake's, Caan's white tipped tail covered his nose as he dozed lightly.

The muted sound of distant voices drew his attention. This in itself was not unusual. Often did voices break into the air as the Sun Clan prepared their hunts. Caan's eyes cracked open, blinking in the harsh light that reflected off the winter snow. Groggily, his head lifted as he attuned to the waking world, a forepaw lifting to rub away the sleep that clung to his eyes. He could not make out the nature of the conversation that was underway, it was simply too far away, but the ground did not rumble with the surge of caribou hoof, so no hunt was immediately underway.

In that case, the teenager gave himself some leeway. There wasn't much to do in the winter aside from sleep in, anyway. The water would kill anyone who attempted to swim for leisure this time of year, and Caan was not a wolf that could be said to have many friends. Sure, he had his sister, but they were still learning each other. Nutu visited him less and less, she had to keep hold on Aivar's leash after all. Finally, his father was Chieftain. Cen simply did not have the time to spare to spend time idling away with his son.

So Caan simply rest his head against the snow, letting his eyes flutter close once more.

“Caan. Walk-with-rain. Chieftain son,” the lanzadoii answers, passing her gaze over Euphemia’s calm, patient presence, and quietly thanking her for it. They would need it.
Iglux̂ is the first to step into the lake clearing, passing from the treeline to where the boy lay in his familiar place. Eyes sweep him over: posture, flank, hind leg. She invites Euphemia closer are deposits her share of the healing herbs on the rocky shore.
“Caan, this is Euphemia. She is my friend from Dawnbreak, and a medicine-wolf. I have brought her here to see your leg.”

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

The lake itself had never held much significance to Euphemia before now. She passed it in her comings and goings, but now that it had been claimed, she had to make detours with a wide berth. The lack of it in her life, she barely noticed. But now that it’s expansive, vast blue-ness yawn before her, she wondered how it had passed her by.

Frostfang Vale had its own water sources, but nothing that reflected the clouds in the sky so vastly, like a mirror planted so placidly in the earth by the gods.

There was a figure at the stony beach, which the gray maiden assumed to be her patient. He seemed most unawares, as he was in repose and the lack of movement might suggest he was even sleeping. Euphemia grit her teeth, knowing Iglux had informed her of this, but she had not realized they might be disturbing him from the very beginning.

'Him may be take as betrayal.'

Euphemia swallowed thickly, smiled, and approached. She kept her gaze on his young face, not allowing it to slip down to spy the culprit limb – it had not been immediately obvious in their approach, and she did not want the boy to feel immediately reduced. He was the chieftain’s son afterall, who needed to be hale and whole more than most. Euphemia had a feeling the chieftain of Saatsine was fierce.

Unforgiving.

Hello, Euphemia greeted, bowing her head, acknowledging that she was the visitor on his lands. Then her sunset eyes shot to Iglux, suddenly aware that perhaps the yearling did not speak a lick of the common tongue. If that were the case, she silently beseeched the silver flame to function as an impromptu translator.

---

The sound of the voices grew to be accompanied by the that of wolfs feet upon the shore. Caan angled an ear to catch the sound of his name, as well as the voice it was spoken by. With a short-tempered huff he resolutely remained sprawled across the ground until the women did in fact ultimately stop in his vicinity. Pushing himself into a sit, Caan turned his icy gaze first to Iglux̂, eyes narrowing as she switched to the caribou tongue. With an irritably twitch of his ears, Caan turned his sharp gaze to the Dawnbreak wolf.

His first impression of Euphemia is simple. She greets him, simply enough, but her eyes reached for Iglux̂. The crying wind woman was the only reason she was here after all, he had no doubt that the woman mainly wished to maintain her bond with Iglux̂. Not to help him. Not that he could be helped anyway. He glanced once more to Iglux̂. She knew that it couldn't be fixed.

A poor friend you are to waste this woman's time. His voice is cold, barbed words readied in moments. Returning his focus to Euphemia, in common did the young wolf now speak. Whatever Iglux̂ told you, you can't fix anything. Go home.

“You walk in pain everyday and she may be the only wolf within miles who knows how to help.” Iglux̂ curls her lip, dark eyes spearing Caan who looks more like a sulking boy than a hunter of caribou.
Had a healer ever examined his leg? Had he ever learned which herbs to ingest for pain, how to stretch the limb, what the turning seasons would do to flex and relax the muscles?
“You will allow Euphemia to look at your leg. If not for your own welfare, if not for your father’s, then for saatsine.”
His legacy.

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

The boy didn’t even regard her, instead electing to look at Iglux as well. Then there they both were, gawking at the silverwoman who had brought them together – only, he spoke their native language, and he made haste to do so. Euphemia kept her exterior exactly the same, not a hair out of place, as they had their exchange. It felt private – was kept effectively private – but his displeasure was evident.

Euphemia thought that if she, herself were suffering from an ailement… that she might feel the same as this boy, this walk-with-rain. It would feel as though someone else were putting their authority over their own, which Euphemia had always chafed at but never managed to subvert. This was likely made even more difficult with a chieftain’s son, who was likely used to answering to no one.

The maiden was blind to the Saatsine woman’s relationship with this very chieftain, perhaps pulling taut a relationship that was already strained.

Eventually, he did turn to address her, after some stern-sounding words from Iglux, and Euphemia was rather surprised (and relieved) to find that the Ca’an spoke the common tongue fairly well. She gritted her molars and smiled awkwardly, as if this were an embarrassing experience for her too

You are likely correct, the silver shewolf admitted through that very smile. A miracle solution, she would never be able to provide. If a doctor corroborated that… oh gods, did she just call herself a doctor? No, she reasoned, the doctor would be the one she consulted with the information she gleaned from this meeting. it might shut everyone up. She talked softly, as if this were a language of their own, attempting to relate quite honestly and genuinely,

which came rather easily to her. She too could easily be shallow, unable to see the forest for the trees. It was a hard thing to do, to look at oneself and one's own limitations, knowing it could make or break situations for countless others.

---

Caan rose to his feet, head low and ears snapped tightly against his skull. He made a point of touching his paw to the ground, regardless of the discomfort. An unbridled scowl on full display to the Crying Wind woman. What was her problem with him?! Why couldn't she leave him the fuck alone?

You suppose she knows better than me? Knows what to do with my leg attached to my body? A growl laced his voice. If something could have been done, don't you think my father would have tried?

He liked to think that Cen would, but he knew the chieftain had to put the welfare of the clan first. He would have wanted his father to try. He would have tried, right?

The Dawnbreak wolf said something, and it took several moments for her words to reach him past the blood in his ears.

It might shut everyone up.

What did she know?

Caan turned his glower to Euphemia. His stare lingered on her, weighing his options. To let her examine it would let Iglux̂ win. Let her decide what is and is not best for him. She had no right to do so.

But he did quite like the idea of her shutting up about it...

With a bullish snort from his nose Caan addressed the Dawnbreak wolf.

Did Iglux̂ even tell you what happened? He doubted this. If she did then surely this Euphemia would know it was a lost cause.

Yes! Because she is a shaman! And you are a boy in the body of a man, who’d rather sulk than become the leader sun clan needs him to be.
She brings her teeth together in anger. This wild frustration takes ahold, something only just tempered by Euphemia’s attendance and Caan's status as Cen’s heir.
Iglux̂ can only guess at the common words he is speaking.
How did he not see?
If he is a lost cause, it is because he chooses to be.