"Lacerations to back and upper thighs, about 4 centimetres deep. I need iodine and gauze."
Frostbite poured through her years of medical experience, trying, and failing to think of the last time she had dealt with something quite like this. The middle-aged otter female who sat before, her, wrapped in a blanket, seemed physically fit. But she was covered in ugly welts and scarring, and Frostbite suspected she had a broken forearm. When she had first been brought to the clearing station, the woman had been a picture of icy calm, and it had taken some persuasion to get her to let go of the blood-stained spear she had been carrying in her hands and allow a blanket to be wrapped over her naked frame.

"Honey," Frostbite raised the otter's head up by the chin. "I need you to look at me. What's your name?"
"Is mise..." The first few words were in a language Frostbite couldn't understand. The otter swallowed, evidently fighting to keep her voice under control, and tried again. "M-My name is Moiré Gunn..."
Frostbite nodded and kept her calm.
"You're safe now, Moire. You're safe."

Tears flowed out from beneath Moire's eyelids as she buried her face into the husky's shoulder. "I-I never thought I'd see the sea again...It's so beautiful..."

Frostbite held the woman in her arms, letting the tears flow down onto her suit as Moiré let out eighteen years of pain and anguish.

"Is she gonna be okay?"
Frostbite turned to glance over her shoulder. Midnight was standing there at the doorway, his face stuck partway between anger, sadness and helplessness.

"...Make them pay for this." Frostbite muttered. "I don't care how. Just do it."

~

Scene from an upcoming story, featuring  Its-a-me-Yotieo's Frostbite and my own Moire Gunn/Gaisgeach.