Paw Print

Chapter Three: Reluctant Recovery

By: Anaea

I was running… while my brothers and sisters chased after me and the rest of the pack and, more importantly, last spring's batch of cubs, watched.

My brother, Conry, who lead the mock-hunt, made a swipe at my back leg with his paw, tripping me and I went skidding to a stop a few yards away. Before I could get up and run off again, he'd come around from my back side and encircled my throat with his jaws and the other three 'hunters' jumped on me and gently nipped at different parts of my body, pretending to tear off chunks of flesh from the still-living prey that was me.

We stayed there for a few more moments; me pretending to struggle, and them pretending to be eating my alive. Finally, with one final 'attempted' thrash, I died. My head fell back; my tongue hanging out of my mouth, and the Hunt was complete.

The pack came alive with howls and barks, as if to tell anyone and everything around us that we'd successfully brought down prey. The distinctive yip-like barks of the pups brought me back to life and rolled over belly-up and I wiggled around, playfully submissive; yipping in time with the pups who'd come and jumped on me.

I jumped up and decided to tease and play with them. I jumped away from them, facing them. The front part of my body was down on the ground, my butt up in the air, tail wagging. I yipped a few times and the pups ―still less than perfectly-graceful― ran at me. One bit my ear, one tripped on the way, another ran behind me and went for my leg trying to unsuccessfully trip me way my body was stationary. And the last ran over my back and tackled my tail. Finally the one who'd tripped came and sat in front of me and cocked her head to the side, as though confused; while her brothers had their fun. I blinked and when I opened it was only to see her little paw come down on my eye.

The sting forced a howl from my lips and I jumped back at the pain.

She turned around and began running back to the rest of the pack who seemed to be laughing, their tongues lolling on the side of the mouths. Before she got to them though, I pounced and grabbed her by the rump with my jaws, turned and ran… and the pack began mock-hunting us again….

Samuel ran into room Number 1 in the Aspen Creek motel carrying a small dead-looking body in his arms. How she had managed to stay alive he didn't know, but he did know that it they didn't stop the bleeding in the next two minutes, she would die Charles came in right behind him carrying six or seven first aid kits, he hastily dropped them and began securing the straps that had been attached to the after Adam the Columbia Basin Pack Alpha had been brought in half dead just over five years ago. But of course, they hadn't actually needed them since then… until now. He adjusted the tightness of the leather strips. And was just finishing up when his and Samuel's father walked in holding four struggling wolf cubs.

Once Bran was inside he closed the door with his foot and lowered the pups who chose that moment to turn towards him and they simultaneously slashed at his face much like the unconscious girl had Samuel. Leaving the man to wiggle his noses to try and hold off a sneeze.

They jumped out of his arms and ran together at Samuel who was currently the closest to the girl.

They scratched and bit and otherwise attempted to get him away from her but he ignored them. Both Charles and Bran approached and grabbed two pups each, letting Samuel to work in relative peace for a few minutes….

But after he had bandaged most of the smaller wounds, popped her shoulder back in its socket, set the less severe brake on her right fibula and bandaged the wound on her right side, he gave aheavy sigh.

He took one long look at the three ribs and then another at the femur bone protruding from her left leg. If he set the femur before the ribs, she most likely would wake violently, and ―most likely― try to sit up, or arch her back to roll with the pain. Regardless which option she went with, the straps would stop her, and that would probably break the fractured fourth rib and cause further damage the broken fifth, sixth and seventh ribs.

On the other hand, if he fixed the ribs first, it would definitely make her thrash, which would without a doubt insure that her right thigh became damaged beyond repair in which case he was almost certain she would stop living.

Thanks the gods that his brother's mate chose that moment to make her appearance. She came in swiftly, and silently. Within two seconds she'd scanned the room and its occupants. Instantly she made her way to Charles and the Marrok, taking all four pups, all of which became less hostile and made her way to the door, only to stop, looking down at the fur-balls in her arms and turn back. She went to the far corner of the room, her chest rumbling in what was almost a growl, but without any of the aggressiveness of one.

The pups settled, and were asleep within seconds.

The other two men in the room were already beside Samuel, and followed his example when he began unbuckling the straps.

Slowly, carefully, Samuel and Charles sat her up.

"I need you to sit behind her. Put your arms around her and make sure she doesn't move," Samuel said, turning to Bran immediately afterwards, leaving no room for objections.

Charles glanced at his mate, and saw the impassive look in her eyes, clearing showing that she wasn't all-too-happy about it. But she caught his eyes and her eyes softened; she gave a slow nod and a small smile, the silent 'it's okay,' rang clearly between husband and wife.

With a jerky nod of his own, Charles sat down behind the girl, one leg on either side of her.

Samuel turned to his father after telling his brother what to do.

"Do you think you'd be able to set the bone, Da?" he pointed at the gleaming white bone of the girl's leg.

"I'm guessing the ribs are more fragile," Bran replied, but he nodded.

"Yeah, and there's a fractured one that might brake and pierce the right lung if it's done wrong. We're gonna have to do both at the same time. If we try doing one at a time it'll kill her," that one of the deaths wouldn't be a physical one wasn't mentioned. Samuel turned to the ribs; Bran's hands hovered a few inches above the leg.

Charles leaned back, so that the upper part of his back rested on the headboard of the bed.

Samuel placed his hands just over the ribs, when the girl gave a pained moan. "Sorry 'bout this," he whispered. "One, two," he turned to look at his father one last time.

Bran nodded to his son, understanding that Samuel would have preferred to mend the bones more slowly, to lessen the girl's discomfort. But there was no time.

"Three!" Samuel almost yelled. A series of things happened then; with three cracks and one deafening, and very loud snap, the bones went back to their proper places; the girl gave a scream so pained and loud that the Samuel and Bran were forced back, Charles and Anna had to let go of the girl and the pups, so that all four of them had to cover their ears in an attempt to block out the sound that had already penetrated their skulls; the girl began levitating, and then hovered about six or seven feet off the ground, all-the-while shifting to her lupine form until the still-on-going scream became a howl; four silver threads that smelled like moonlight shot out from her chest and connected with two of the pups.

Charles and Anne jumped in front of the two threads headed towards the dark gray and brown-and-black pups.

Magic swelled around the girl and shot out in waves, making Bran and Samuel sway on their feet. The magic felt similar to an Alpha's power, yet it was distinctively different. By the time the third wave of magic hit them, they both decided that it felt like a silk-covered crow bar.

"Will you heal her?" spoke hundreds of joined voices.

While Samuel and his father glanced at each other, Charles and Anne dropped on all fours in response. And without bothering to undress they both began shifting into their wolf forms.

Two loud yelps drew the two still-human werewolves' attention to the two pups were connected to the girl via the silver threads. They were shaking and convulsing in an effort to bare the pain. That was all warning they needed, they both got between the pups and the girl: breaking the connection and making reattach itself to them.

"Will you heal her?" the voices repeated.

Without any warning, their wolves reared up and began forcing the change. Unlike any other times though, there was no pain, just a pleasant tingle as their bodies changed.

The injured she-wolf, still about six feet off the ground, moved towards them; and her body began descending so that by the time that she was between them she was no more than a foot off the ground.

Sometime during their Change, her howling had ceased. And when she was directly between them, she slowly lowered her body to the ground, finally sitting down between all four of them. Her shoulders hunched, and her nose pointing straight down, she inhaled as much air as she was physically able to, with the bandages constricting her chest.

After a few seconds, while her Brother's four pups and her four darker cousins watched her; her shoulders straightened, and her neck rose. Her ears laid down flat on her head. And finally she threw her head back, letting loose a strong, loud howl, only slightly tainted by her pain.

Her howl soared alone for but an instant, because the next moment the voices of the room's eight other occupants joined hers.

Bran slowly began feeling his side open, but there was no pain, he felt different bones in his body fracture and brake, but there was nothing, it did not even sting. As soon as he took on an injury, the magic around them touched him life the cool touch of a mother's finger on her child's scraped knee.

And looking around him, he immediately knew that he wasn't the only one who'd come to that conclusion.

Two minutes. That was all it took for my injuries to completely heal. Then again, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, since the healers were werewolves. Afterwards, I used the Pack to shift them back to the human forms; though they seemed a bit surprised that they were clothed.

I too shifted, but only because it would be easier to assess for any remaining injuries.

'Wow, neat,' I thought, looking myself over. Not a scratch in sight.

"Am I the only one who feels like running out to play?" whispered the female. Why she whispered, I don't know.

"Oh, good I'm not the only one then?" replied the reddish-brown one. I twirled on my right foot. A giggle escaped me lips; my leg felt brand new!