Stopping at the barricade Krish shifted into human form then pushed open the gate. Reluctantly leaving the half-dead wolf in the snow, she rushed in to prepare the cabin. Moving quickly, slipping on clothes and throwing a bedroll down by the hearth, Krish hurried back out and stared down at his still form considering her options. Squatting next to him, she muscled his mass up onto her shoulders pulling his body into a fireman's carry. Grunting under the effort, legs lamenting the burden, she rises to her feet. The wolf now draped across her back, she can feel his temperature has dropped, heart slowing dangerously. Cussing under her breath. "Damn stubborn wolf tempting fate all for a piece of tail." Though in truth she blames herself more than him. She had been rough on him, as strong as his Arch blood was, he was still just a wolf and her antics might yet kill him. She is surprised at the stabbing pain that thought causes in her chest.

Once in the cabin she gently slides the wolf off her back onto the bedroll. "Going to be a long night big boy." she says to the unconscious wolf. 

Krisha starts the fire then settles in next to him. For the first time, she allows herself to focus on him and nothing else. His dark ox blood colored pelt shines in the firelight. He smells of the forest as most pureblooded wolves do, only in his case she finds the smell lulling instead if adversarial. His head is broad, neck muscular with a dense mane flowing from his shoulders ending halfway down his back. The mane reminds her of a Barbary Lion. Half-closed wounds run along his left side, a gash streaks crimson on his muzzle. As the ice melts from his fur she takes out her comb and runs it along his body to fluff the fur, drying it faster. His pelt and mane are silken with the exception of the coarse guard hairs that run down his spine. After cleaning the wounds and placing a salve on them Krish finds herself threading fingers through his mane, the sensation sending rivulets of pleasure up her arm. His body heats slowly, heartbeat and respiration are still faint. Stroking his massive head she bends down and plants a kiss on his muzzle. "It is up to you now big man. Fight." Krish strips her clothes off, nestling in against his body running languorous strokes down his shoulders. As her eyes close she prays the close contact of her bare skin will help.

Cungr rouses to a splitting headache afraid opening his eyes will make it worse. Everything hurts and his strength has abandoned him. The unfamiliar sensations of panic and helplessness assault him. Then a sharp ginger smell envelopes him, the warmth of a body lying alongside his, strong powerful hands gently kneading the muscles in his shoulders, chasing away the panic threatening to overwhelm his senses.

A voice purrs softly in his ear, "Welcome back to the land of the living." Releasing a heavy breath, Cungr relaxes into her touch. Krish strokes his powerful jaw, "Open your eyes dear."

Slowly he cracks them open, relieved that the only light emits from a fire in a small hearth. Raising his head slightly he tries to look around the small room but gives up, the pain still too excruciating for him to focus.

"Easy now." she soothes. He struggles to look at her but hasn't the strength to move. She threads fingers through his mane one last time then moves into view. Lustrous golden hair tumbles wildly in thick sections obscuring her unclothed form, she kneels beside him before the fire. His heart swells at her beauty and breaks at the look of worry in her eyes. He was not meant to meet his mate as a weak helpless creature. Here she is, sinewy limbs stretching before him, and he is unable to claim her. His eyes close, he groans in frustration, pride wounded.

Her voice drifts over him again, "Do you think you can eat?"

He emits a low rumble but still does not open his eyes.

"I'll take that as a maybe." Smoothing the fur back on his head she rises.

His eyes snap open, he unwilling emits a whine as he tries to roll over and stand. "No! Don't leave." he thinks in panic.

She kneels back down, running a reassuring caress down his shoulder. "I'm only going a few feet, you don't have to pursue me."

He settles back down but strains to keep her in sight. He watches her stretch up, hair brushing back revealing her hard muscular form. Her buttocks and breast are the only areas that do not appear chiseled from stone. Krish pulls on a loose thermal shirt, heavy cargo pants, thick socks, and boots. She pours some water into a bowl and brings it over to him, setting it on the floor. "Here, drink. I'll prepare some food."

As if being too weak to rise wasn't bad enough, drinking water out of a bowl on the floor like a pet dog was completely degrading, a final strike to his ego.

Krish eyes him questioningly, understanding crosses her face. She smirks at him, "You can't shift if you don't regain your strength. Stop being stubborn and drink, you proud thing. Unless you want to be spoon-fed." Her words prick at him, he knows she is right. The threat of further indignity pushes Cungr to rise up enough to drink from the offered bowl. Krish nods in approval before striding out the door. "Males, so overly dramatic when ill."

Returning minutes later with a haunch of meat and a handful of dried herbs, Krish hangs the meat next to the hearth to thaw and begins to finely chop the herbs then crush them into a paste. She pulls down a few bottles and adds powders he assumes are spices. The smell of meat thawing causes his mouth to water, he wishes she would hurry and cook it. Krish pulls the meat down and begins to shave thin strips off the haunch piling them on a plate, coating each with the herbal paste. His nose wrinkles as she sets it before him.

"Don't tell me they domesticated you." she chides. It has been decades since he consumed raw game flesh. Her jibe and his already wounded ego drive him to gingerly mouth a piece. The herbs taste strange, but the strong game flavor easily overpowers it. His stomach rumbles, as hunger overtakes him he starts to gulp the food quickly.

"Easy, eat slower." she cautions, "You need to keep that down, the herbs will help with healing." As he swallows the last strip she sets next to him running her fingers through his dense fur. He leans into her sighing contentedly, drifting off into a heavy slumber. Krish rises after his breathing deepens to a heavy regular pattern.

"He'll be out for a long while. I have got to figure out what to do before he wakes back up." Krish opens a large chest, digging through it she draws one of two neatly wrapped packages out. Unfurling the tissue she pulls the contents loose. "Never thought I'd actually need these." An intricately embroidered tunic and matching pants are contained in the package. She fondly runs her fingers across the needlework remembering the thousands of hours that went into it then lays the clothes on the small table. Pulling out a growler and small cup, she fills the cup with the flammable liquid and downs it. Looking over at the giant wolf lying on her bedroll, watching his rib cage rise and fall with each breath, she sighs then fills the small cup again, this time sipping it slowly.

This was anarchic by her estimation. After all these years she was sure there was nothing that could surprise her left on the planet. Before her, sleeping peacefully, lay the thing Krish least expected and most likely would throw her life into immediate chaos. Nations falling and rising, ages of enlightenment coming and going, mass genocides, watching epic love stories unfold, the simple passage of time; none had not prepared her for this. What a cruel joke to pair her with the very creature she had become most skilled at destroying. She was certain, after the first 1500 years, her mate lay dead on some distant battlefield. She had gotten used to the idea that everything changed but her. Now a life, that had thus far existed less than a 10th as long as she, was tied to her soul. Hell of an age gap. Krish vacillated between being amused and irked at the situation.

To be fair she was afforded almost two centuries of peaceful existence. Perhaps the universe needed her to move again, to enter the stage.

Halfway through the bottle of spirits, head fuzzy and no solutions to the problem found, she decides to give up and go to sleep. Slipping onto the bedroll next to the wolf she buried her face in his neck. A soft groan escapes him as he shifts to push closer to her.

"What are we going to do?" she thinks before sleep prevails.