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Pip wasn't too late.
It ran as a mantra through his head as the young canine picked and stumbled his way through the undergrowth, determined to get to the scene and do his job, as it was very likely needed. This wouldn't be another Junji, gone before Pip could do anything. The memory spurred his legs faster, but he still had to be careful not to trip, considering how many of the containers in his satchel were glass; if he had to pick shards of it out of his side and limbs, it wasn't going to be a good day for anyone.
Making mistakes got people hurt or killed.
When he did make it, the ruckus subsiding, he hadn't expected to find Goldie. It was- unadvised for those with medical backgrounds to treat the people they cared about. Emotions could easily cloud judgment, could foster missteps, but there wasn't a choice, was there? If Pip hesitated, it could mean the difference between a full recovery and lasting problems. Still, he wasn't prepared. Not for Goldie, not for the telltale blood gathering at her hind. Pip inhaled deeply, calming his nerves, mismatched gaze shifting from her back to her face. "Excuse me," he murmured, gently nosing by Maise. "Goldie, you're gonna be okay. I want you to drink this- it's raspberry tea, it'll help with the bleeding." Pip pulled a small, sealed jar free from his bag, and poured it into a bowl that he set close to her face. The scrapes on her face and sides weren't too serious, but would still need disinfecting, so he retrieved the saline. "This will keep your scratches from infection." Carefully, he tipped it over the scrapes on her side, following it with a comfrey poultice. "Can you close your eyes so I can get the ones on your face?"
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It ran as a mantra through his head as the young canine picked and stumbled his way through the undergrowth, determined to get to the scene and do his job, as it was very likely needed. This wouldn't be another Junji, gone before Pip could do anything. The memory spurred his legs faster, but he still had to be careful not to trip, considering how many of the containers in his satchel were glass; if he had to pick shards of it out of his side and limbs, it wasn't going to be a good day for anyone.
Making mistakes got people hurt or killed.
When he did make it, the ruckus subsiding, he hadn't expected to find Goldie. It was- unadvised for those with medical backgrounds to treat the people they cared about. Emotions could easily cloud judgment, could foster missteps, but there wasn't a choice, was there? If Pip hesitated, it could mean the difference between a full recovery and lasting problems. Still, he wasn't prepared. Not for Goldie, not for the telltale blood gathering at her hind. Pip inhaled deeply, calming his nerves, mismatched gaze shifting from her back to her face. "Excuse me," he murmured, gently nosing by Maise. "Goldie, you're gonna be okay. I want you to drink this- it's raspberry tea, it'll help with the bleeding." Pip pulled a small, sealed jar free from his bag, and poured it into a bowl that he set close to her face. The scrapes on her face and sides weren't too serious, but would still need disinfecting, so he retrieved the saline. "This will keep your scratches from infection." Carefully, he tipped it over the scrapes on her side, following it with a comfrey poultice. "Can you close your eyes so I can get the ones on your face?"
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CAREFUL, SON — YOU GOT DREAMER'S PLANS