Savard had managed to escort the pup as far as the edge of town with not so much as a whimper from the pup. Metaphorically, at least. He was young, far too young for this to happen, but for him to go on as he had, his strength impressed even his cold heart. Hell, he was half-expecting to have to carry the wolf out. His haphazard gamble had seemingly paid off, his bleeding somewhat under control for the moment. But who knew if that would last. Despite all the good that he had done for the pup, however, there was no sense of adoration or dependency shown his way, fortunately. He spoke only when needed, followed because he had to. It was true what they said… animals like wolves and stags will frighten of others easily, unless if they have no choice. It was nothing cultural, but something purely instinctual, base, that despite it not being taught, is passed down time after time after time. The older male was thankful for that, for the last thing he wanted in this life was to form a friendship with a wolf like this.
But as he led his temporary companion in the direction of the only medical person he could think of that would help him, a voice rang out, a male one at that. And then he saw him, a diminutive ripple of gold and tan fleeing this way and that, calling out a wolf’s name. It could have been any wolf, but that’s when the pup spoke his name. Papa. It had to have been the boy’s father, a preened, groomed specimen of a wolf. And as he drew closer, he reeked of kind scents, perfume perhaps. And he looked panicked on his face, panicked and fear-driven, as if it were the worst thing to have ever happened to him. Well… it was, perhaps, the worst thing to happen to someone. For someone who had been so reckless… he at least cared about his actions. Sometimes, though… it wasn’t about who was right or wrong, and a lot of times, there wasn’t someone in the right or in the wrong. Sometimes, terrible things just happen.
Overwhelmed in joy and relief, the pup charged at his father with every ounce of strength he had left in him, embracing him, apologizing for his actions. But the pup hadn’t realized how wounded he really was, and at that moment, Savard’s handiwork came undone, as with the excitement he now felt inside him, the pup’s movements caused the sap to give way, and the wound began to gush again, and in a moment, the pup lost his last ounce of strength. He had done what he could for the wolf, and up to that point, nothing else mattered other to Savard other than to do what he had set out to do. He wanted to save that pup, he needed to, and if his perfume-furred father was going to stand there idly watching his own son die, Savard would do all he could to make sure that that embrace wouldn’t be their last.
As if he were unseen by either of them, Savard strode forth, and at once sank his paws into the pup’s wound, clutching at the source of the bleeding with all his might. “He got attacked outside of town,” Savard said in a rushed voice, “he hasn’t stopped bleeding since it happened. Help me, and your son lives.” Savard’s assertive tone to the father, a wolf who in his own estimation looked as if he had never worked a day in his life. But he wouldn’t talk that way in front of him then, for there was something far more important to do. Either way, he was about to get his paw dirty, whether he wanted to or not. “Help me carry him to the tavern across the way there.”
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