Blackfeather Woods nothing but the burnt edge of an unfinished history

He had within these few moments proved several things to her. That he was immensely remorseful for his actions. That he was devoted entirely to her, and was afraid of breaking his promise to her yet again. That he followed every order she gave him to a tee. That he was physically and mentally strong enough to be hurt in such a way. 

By the time she finishes lapping at his wound the blood had stained most of her mouth and some of her face. Her tongue swipes over her mouth, though it would take a thorough washing to truly rinse it off. Her head pounds again, sudden in its pain, enough to get her to gasp for a moment. The witch's brow furrows as she rides the wave of pain as it flows through her, and when it finally passes she blinks, as if seeing for the first time.

Her body turns around, back towards the Woods, her shoulder against Atli's. Potema nudges him — Come with me, — and begins to walking to the nearest tunnel. She won't let him die from infection, though she toys with the idea of letting some infection set in. No. If he was going to be useful to her and prove himself he had to be at full strength. She would heal him with what materials she had. Where they would go from there she had yet to decide. She had little worth in the Spiderlings' Glen now that the pups were eating meat. They had each other for warmth, and if not, one of their older siblings. There was the matter of the other boy that Ganon had brought to her, @Cyron. Perhaps she would take him with her, to a den away from that wretched place.