Lion Head Mesa dust

Slate was not easy to gross out. In fact she was very fascinated with most gross things as it meant the discovery of new things, experimental ways to treat the sick. But upon seeing this very light wolf, listening to her breathe, smelling the decay, Slate knew it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do for this one. She took steps closer, looked upon her head wound, ignored the golden female speaking at first as she inspected the wounded.

She wanted to make sure before she made any rash decision.

Why had the queen called for her? Did she hope for some miracle? Slate was not magical nor was she superstitious, no amount of prayer could save a life already lost. It was cruel to keep this one alive, to wait for her to die here, by herself. Slate's face turned cold and into stone. She realized in this moment who the queen was. It had to be the blue-eyed one, the female she had met alongside Merrick.

She had seen and heard her talk about plants, specifically the dangerous ones. Slate's face softened. So be it.

"skill cannot end sickness," Slate snapped her head toward the golden female, her expression hard to read. Skill could end sickness, she had seen it, she had done it. But she knew what the golden one meant. "No. But skill can end suffering." She had placed her pouch on the floor before inspecting the wounded and now she opened it. She carefully selected a very large amount of black beans. Castor beans.

If this was not the reason the queen had called her here, this could get her in trouble. But she did not care. It was cruel to leave this one as this current stage, and Slate was many things, but cruel wasn't one of them. With a huge amount of care she collected the beans in her jaws, careful to not swallow or touch them with her tongue. She walked toward the white wounded female and placed the beans by her mouth.

She looked at the golden woman. "I do not expect you to stay for this. But I won't leave her." She wasn't going to die alone. Not on Slate's watch.

She nudged the beans toward the wounded female, wondering if she even was able to eat and swallow the beans. with a huge amount of care she placed her paw on the side of her jaws to open up her mouth. Then with her nose she nudged the beans, one by one, into her mouth. She watched if the female would chew and eat every single one.

Once and if the female did so Slate would place herself lying down, her nose touching the wounded female. She closed her eyes and listened to her breathe. She knew it wouldn't take too long before she would suffocate. An uncomfortable death to some, but it was the best Slate could offer with what she had in her pouch. Beside in her state it would likely not feel like much. She listened to her breathing in, out, in, out. Waited in silence and reached her paw out to touch the female, to let her know she wasn't alone.

Was this her duty? Was this really her calling?

She didn't feel sad, but angry. Angry that no one else had to guts around here to do what she had just done. It was unfair to the female, unfair to let her suffer for this long. "Many, many days ago" That's what the golden one had said. Slate's face hardened. It was obvious to anyone that the head injury would never let her live, not a normal life, not a dignified life. Her anger rose and flamed for whoever had kept this one alive, but she kept it inside of her. For now she stayed by the light female's side.

Until her very last breathe.