[Aphra]

The one attempt Aphra had ever made to stand up for herself ended just as she knew it would; in injury. Of course, it was extremely minor and would likely heal within a couple of weeks. It had been several days since she had been able to get anything substantial to eat, so when she made her kill this morning, Aphra was more or less ecstatic to tear into it. However, the universe--or a much larger rouge, in this case--had other plans. Aphra was not a fighter by any meaning of the word; never had been and never would be. So when she made the half-assed attempt to defend her food, she would end up with a nasty bite mark on her right hind leg.

Nasty may be a bit of an overstatement, but it stung quite a bit. Aphra glanced down at her slightly bloodied leg; the blood was dark now and had matted her golden fur. That was going to be a pain to untangle, her fur was longer in length and always made for difficult grooming. Turning forward again, she made her way towards a thicket of trees that could serve as some sort of shelter. It was getting to be later in the day, and Aphra knew better than anyone to not remain out in the open after dark. Being small and docile didn't often help her chances of survival when it came down to it. 

Getting off of her injured leg was sounding more and more like a good idea, so Aphra sat down with a small huff under the shade of the trees. Extending her leg, she began lightly licking it, flinching at the sharp stinging every once and a while. Her stomach was still empty, but there was no way she would be doing any more hunting today. Perhaps tomorrow she could venture back to where she was this morning and sniff around for any leftovers the rouge left behind.

Her ears flicked up when a new scent rushed her nose; her first thought was dread. She didn't have the energy to run very fast, nor the physical ability. Usually, that's how she escaped trouble, by utilizing her speed and litheness. Aphra straightened up and had a look of anticipation and insecurity upon her face; all she could do was hope this wasn't going to be a repeat of this morning. If it was, it was unlikely that a measly cut up leg would be the result this time.

[Amando]

Well, back again. Loner to Leader, loner to Police, to loner again. He's just a drifter on the wind-- should start up as a traveling salesman, or something. He's losing weight again, not bedding down anywhere for more than a night at a time before the nightmares chase him too far from water to stay long. Here and there and the smell of blood, the screams of the trees and running from the marsh, just like last time. Borogrove's gone. Of course it is. Amando ruins everything he touches.

He definitely smells blood. The timbre's no healer, but he spent a year or so surrounded by them, and his poor, bleeding heart...

"You alright?" he calls, idiotically. If they're not, a stray's doubtful to admit it, and if they are... Well, there's no guarantee Amando will be.

[Aphra]

The approaching scent spoke to her, and emerged as a black and white male. Aphra peeked around the tree she had been resting under and wondered if his call was a trap. Perhaps her thoughts were paranoid, but she was a worrisome personality. With good reason, currently. Her leg would heal, no doubt, but injuring it further might jeopardize that process. She felt her stomach threatening to growl loudly, but somehow willed it to stay quiet for the time being. The cream-colored she wolf desperately wanted to find a pack; she was not suited for loner life. Her sweet and timid personality was ill suited for this lifestyle.

Aphra watched the male, trying to decipher his body language. She did want help if he could offer it, but she also didn't want to be injured further by an aggressive loner. Still behind her tree, Aphra continued watching him without returning his call. Maybe he would leave if she stayed silent. Unfortunately, Aphra shifted a bit too heavily and several leaves crunched loudly underneath her weight. Biting her lip, she froze in her position and hoped he meant no harm to her.

There was little chance her motion had gone unnoticed, so she quietly responded in her soft voice, My leg is wounded. I just need to rest...

[Amando]

"I've got some training," Amando announces, poking his head around the tree with a lopsided smile and his best offer, "in healing, that is. I mean, I'm not really trained, but I do a lot of gardening, and helping out with the healers, and--" His awkward tirade is interrupted by the grumbling of her stomach, and Amando chuckling in reply. "Okay, now that's something I definitely know how to fix. Don't go anywhere!" It's just the sort of thing he would say, but a glance at her injured leg draws a snort, and he hightails it to hunt down a rodent of some sort.

He's actually pretty good at this; Borogrove had such an oppressive atmosphere, nobody made enough trouble to warrant Police involvement. He mostly kept the Smiths stocked with hides, the garden weeded, and his crush of a doberman warm. Amando's had a lot more exercise since that town turned to dust, but he clinks a little around the throat from the chain that tethers the collar to chest-piece. Still, he gets his teeth in a groundhog, and drags it back to meet what has spontaneously become his dinner date.

Upon return, the timbre drops the rodent at the injured woman's feet, head and tail held high, like he's proud of himself. He settles not far from her, one paw over the other and grinning. "I'm Amando, by the way. Hi."