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The scavengers were bold today. They had been watching the duel between father and son with anxious eyes and hungry bellies, waiting for the victor to emerge - or rather, waiting for the defeated to concede. They could not be bothered who that was, white or black, but, as the fight dragged on, it became apparent that the son was no match for his father. Pierced in the chest by his father's steel, Genichiro lost.

The scavengers took flight as the white walker left the clearing, eager to feed on the fallen child left in his wake. The boldest one dared to peck at the wound in the slain walker's chest, cautious at first; however, Genichiro did not stir. Satisfied with this inaction, the scavenger concluded that it was safe for both him and his companions to begin their feast. His next peck was met with a snarl and swift end, claws and teeth ensnaring the feathered rogue. The rest of the scavengers dispersed, screaming while flying back to the safety of the trees. It appears as though it was not Genichiro's time... not yet, anyway. By some stroke of luck, Ashura, one of the most precise killers in the world, had missed his mark.

However, he was not out of the woods yet. Most urgently, he was bleeding out. He had already lost so much blood that he could not stand, and was treading dangerous waters. He would not survive these injuries for much longer. He knew he needed to tend to his wounds if he had any chance of seeing the sunset, but every attempt at movement was disastrous. His paws gave out beneath him, his neck could barely support his head, and he struggled to breathe. He also never cared to learn how to best treat injuries, for he had never been wounded to this degree. Thus far, he was able to get away with shaking off the pain and moving on. He never imagined he would be in a situation like this, yet here he was, hardly able to move, desperately dragging himself forward through the forest floor, coughing up blood, and weakly clinging to life.

Though he would never admit it, Genichiro was completely helpless and in a very hopeless situation. He was a fighter - and the stubborn fool would fight until the bitter end - but, at this point, no matter how much fight he had in him, his only chance at survival was a miracle.

He neither smelled nor heard the mare's approach. He only managed to see the blurred movement of red ankles approaching him. The walker's lips curled back over his teeth, but instead of a snarl, he only managed to wheeze and cough up just a bit of blood. Though the response would have been the same whether he were accosted by friend or foe, initially, he believed his father had returned to finish him off; however, it was not a male voice that greeted his ears. 'Who are you?' he thought to himself with a low growl, given that he could not speak.

"My name is Flidais," came the response. Genichiro attempted to look up at her face, to no avail. He could not lift his head from the ground.

'What do you want?'

"I am a healer. I am going to take care of you." came the next unexpected, but apt response.

His brow furrowed, and he briefly wondered if she could read minds. 'Why? Do you know what I am?'

Perhaps not, for she did not respond to him now, shoving a foul piece of wood in front of him - it felt like a shove to the enfeebled walker, anyway. He would have swatted it away, were he able to do so, but the best he could do was scrunch his nose. Then she began doing what he could not: tend to his wounds. It was agonizing. Whatever she was doing burned, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, not even protest beyond some low growling. He still refused the analgesic, firmly believing - perhaps wrongly - that he could endure this. The duel was the true test; recovery could not be worse, in his mind, anyway. Surely enough, the pain eased the longer the ointment rested on his wounds after she finished application, and, somehow, he managed to stay conscious throughout the ordeal.

He did not feel better, but he did not feel worse, and the latter was likely a good sign. He never learned, though, and continued to attempt to push his body up from the ground the moment he felt any twinge of strength. He could not tell that the sun was setting, and did not feel the same level of urgency as Flidais. She presented him some unknown meal and commanded him to eat, narrowing his eyes.

The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on him; as of right now, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed someone to assist him until he healed. He was not going to survive without attentive medical care. He finally managed to lift his head, and glowered down at the parcel in front of him.

Genichiro already abhorred his father, but now, there was no word to describe how he felt. It was a raging sort of hatred that heated his entire body. This was humiliating, having to eat some plant stuff from a small deer thing. But what other choice did he have? He was not proud enough to die before eating... whatever concoction she gave him.

No.

He was not going to die here. Not like this, beneath the hooves of some stranger, bested by the one he hated most. He needed to kill that devil who reduced him to this.

Right now, he would do anything for survival, including eat what Flidais gave him. It tasted horrendous, nuts and herbs, concentrated and dreadful. He considered her next words, understanding that they had to take shelter for the night. He was in no position to defend himself - let alone defend his nurse as well - especially if Ashura came back. He groaned and growled as he forced himself onto his paws, hoping that shelter was close by. He would not be able to go very far in this state.

She may have been right, but the incessant reprimand grated on his nerves. He hated how she fussed over him, but there was nothing he could do to stop her. It was miraculous that she was treating him at all. Did she not know better? Skinwalkers were not known for their gratitude. She did not seem naïve. Even in his current state, he could sense her wariness. If she knew what he was, then why not leave him for the birds?

He scowled at the ground. Thinking made his head ache, and there was no point in questioning her motives. He would never understand these Soquili, for he could not fathom motives different than the ones of his species. Being kind to even the most reprehensible creatures in this world? Good joke.

Although they had been moving slowly, he could feel her haste as she trotted a step or two ahead of the shaky stallion. She finally spoke, continuing to urge him forward. Any distance felt far to him right now. He needed to rest for a long while to allow his body to heal.

The air closed in around him as they traveled deeper into the woods. The faint smell of charred wood caught his attention, and they entered a small cavern. He would not have found it easily, which hopefully meant that if Ashura returned, he would struggle to find it as well. Genichiro was not too hopeful, though. The white walker was tenacious to a fault.

He collapsed on the mat without hesitation, welcoming oblivion. His eyes had only shut for a moment before the opening again at her words. More fussing? The displeasure was evident on his face. What the hell was a familiar anyway?

As Flidais began tending to him again, he found his voice. "Why are you helping me?"

Her actions did not hurt as much now, his body numbing out familiar pain. He watched her with as much focus as he could spare. He could not help his natural suspicion, even though he had no reason to believe that she would harm him in any way. This was too much effort for if she merely wanted him dead.

The doe busied herself with her tonics and material, then left without a word. He did not know if he was relieved or aggravated, or maybe just baffled. He had wished for silence, but now, the second he spoke to her, the chatty mare said nothing? He huffed.

She returned after some time, carrying with her... a raccoon? It hopped off her back and began preparing the items Flidais had left out, while she walked back to him. He growled when she rubbed another cream on his wound; however, the pain rapidly subsided. An analgesic. He wondered what she intended to do now, as she was clearly preparing for some treatment she did not already have.

Genichiro considered her words. So she knew what he was and what that entailed, yet still decided to treat him... validating his belief that he would never understand these Soquili. "Do you think that's wise?" he spoke. It would have perhaps been a threat, had he any ability to move. He did not consider the potential consequences of threatening his savoir, either. He was far less concerned about anything she could do to him than the demon who caused him this agony. He needed to make sure he conserved enough strength in case he came back, and it may be wise to warn this doe of the danger.