Black Flies

IV. A Darkened Plume To Stay

"Settle, settle," Andrew hums gently, his hands under his companion's chest, gripping slightly as she fusses in his arms. Dabbing cream along the stitches in her skin, the man concentrates on making sure he didn't hurt the wolf while assuring she was getting the proper dosage. "Just a few more drops."

Ginger whips her head back, her legs sprawling across the mattress as she attempts to escape from the hold from the man. Her jaw has a wire in place, keeping her from furthering the fracture that it had ordained. However, this is also setting the wolf back from biting, the one thing she wants to do with all her heart and soul. But much to her dismay, Davie isn't allowing that as he is much stronger, and the canines that poke out of his own mouth could press a hard chaw much more dangerous than her own.

"You're not a calm one, you aren't," He chuckles, letting her loose and snapping the cap back onto the prescription anti-itch cream. The werewolf sets the medicine on his dresser, where the rest of Ginger's pills and creams were currently laid, as well as a detailed written packet on how to take care of her while she was healing. It would be a while before she was completely healed, but in a few weeks, the wolf would be able to walk and eat normally. A few more weeks that Andrew can hide her safely from the cunning eyes of Julian Owen.

The she-wolf plops down on her chest on the bed, huffing in disappointment. It's not like she can safely get herself off of the furniture, nor do anything without the man lifting her up or down. A depressing plastic cone is locked between her head and body as well, making just the right amount of miserable torture ordained to her. The vet had warned that the wolf seemed to be consistent in her actions of scratching and biting, and so coning her would be the best option to make sure she wouldn't lick nor bite her stitches. Not like she has a reason to. They hurt like a bitch.

"You keep me busy, I hope you know that," Davie mutters, coming to sit next to her withered frame and stroke her soft fur. She was bathed at the facility after her injuries were dealt with, revealing a gorgeous coat of soft red fur and sharp white points along her head and feet. Ginger was definitely a pretty wolf; she would've been the highest female omega in her pack simply due to her appearance. Demeanor, however, not so much. She was nowhere near friendly if you stroked her wrong. "A fireball, but you'll be a good pet. Hopefully running out in the woods will burn off some of your frustration, once you can walk. There's beautiful land in the pack boundaries, lots of space to roam and play. I bet you didn't have that in London, huh?"

Bringing his attention away from the wolf is heavy footsteps and a knock on the old door, causing both the man and his companion to jump. It was most likely just Marcus looking for an apology, but in reality, it was much too early for much of the pack to be up, let along the heavy sleeper of a beta.

"Hey, we need you for patrol." The all-handsome and dark Benjamin Lovett stands at his door once he cracks it open, golden eyes shining and alert. He was a loyal member, possibly as loyal as Hamblett had he not made a few mistakes testing Jools' patience in the past. His dark hair looms over his face, the smallest smile creeping up around his lips. Andrew had always liked Lovett for his calmness and sincerity; he knew life wasn't all that great as well, but he surely made the best of it. "It was Mark's turn this morning, but I dunno where he's gone."

"This early? God, you guys are never-ending." He chuckles frustratingly, rubbing his sleep-covered face. "Yeah yeah, give me a second. You plan on being done by breakfast?"

"If you'd like. You can tag off with Win, I can usually do the north and west portion in a half hour. Think you two can cover the rest together?" He yawns, leaning against the doorframe as his pack member starts making advances towards his pet. Ben raises an eyebrow, his lips cracking open in disbelief. "Is this a wolf?"