Snippet #2397948

Perro knew when his brethren were bleeding.
Jack barely had to lift the trap door before the familiar masked man pushed it open. His breaths sounded hollow as he sniffed at his weakening brother in arms before wasting no time in bringing him to one of the chairs by the fire. Granted, the current size-difference between Perro and the wolfed out Jack made things a little awkward. He stared at Jack in his bad eye and clicked his tongue beneath the mask.
"What the fuck happened to you?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Whoever hurt his closest confidant in the Gae Ceann's days were already numbered. Perro could pick up a lingering scent as he worked, removing his gloves and placing fingers on Jack's muzzle, into the cut to numb it out and gradually heal it to a lighter scar. There was nothing he could do short of offering the blood and flesh of a god to the were...and while Perro cared about his friend, he wasn't ready for that sort of commitment. It was a communing, spirit-binding thing he wanted nothing to do with.

Instead he focused on the poison coursing through Jack's blood, closing his eyes beneath his mask to concentrate. Slowly, Jack's strength seemed to return as Perro's legs started to tremble as the godhound drew the poison into himself. He was immortal, it was nothing to suffer a little venom, but it was exhausting, and by the time he was done, he'd dropped to his knees and was shaking as if he were cold.
"It's- it's all I can do."