Ariane walked through the mist-filled woods, unsure of what was drawing her, but certain of the direction of that odd pull. It was a subtle psychic tendril, almost like the delicate snare of a dream web. That thought paused her steps. Was this a trap? She brushed against the tendril again, and, feeling nothing amiss, pressed onward.
The trees parted into a small clearing where a silvery shape laid, a pool of dark liquid seeping from its side. The overwhelming scent of the blood caused Ariane to sway. She stumbled forward and fell to her knees beside the silver-furred creature. It stirred a bit, and gave a weak growl. A wolf.
Dazed, Ariane reached out to stroke the silvery fur, not thinking of danger. Soft bristles gave way to a wet, matted tangle as her hand found the deep gash along the wolf's flank. It opened its eyes and focused an intense gaze on her.
Silver eyes. Ariane stared in fascination even as the sadness dawned on her. She could not help the wolf. There was no one around, no source of power for her to draw on—
She stopped, remembering the psychic tendril that had led her here. Without thinking, Ariane reached for the wolf's mind.
Sapphire. The wolf wore Sapphire Jewels. It—no, he was a Warlord Prince!
The wolf whimpered. His gaze faltered. Snapping back to attention, Ariane reached for his mind again. The Sapphire Jewel was completely drained, but his Birthright Purple Dusk still held enough power. Quickly, Ariane dipped into that strength. She did not have the skill to heal the wound, but she could stop the bleeding.
Calling in some supplies, she set to work. While she cleaned and dressed the wolf's wound, she wove a soothing song to ease his pain. The pair of silver eyes never left her.