The medic was taking a rare morning off from his rounds. Usually dawn saw him up and out among the pride, tending to the many minor wounds a pride of warriors inevitably aquired. But for once he had slept in, having been out all night hunting. An unfortunate affaire he really prefered to forget about. Though the honeybadger's memorial, a savage bite to his paw, was a constant reminder of his follies. Ignoreing the pain when he finally surfaced for the day he left his sleeping place and set off towards the nearest watering hole.
An hour later saw him sequestered under a stand of scrabby trees near the water's edge. His bag of supplies lay before him in a somewhat haphazard manner, scattered by his attempt at grabbing things with only one paw. His other folded carefully before him to keep out the sand, pale pink pads exposed and the raggedy wound bleeding slowly from its cleaning.
It was easy enough to attend another, but self-repair was a much more awkward business.