Broken Boulder ne t’enfermes pas dans ta chambre

Aw, jeez. He didn't really like kids, but he couldn't just ignore one that needed help, especially one that was clearly injured. Zamael let out a sigh, nodding in response. "Okay, okay, I'll get you something for it," he promised. "You gotta stay there, okay? Don't move."

Muttering under his breath, he slipped away quickly, making his way to his den and the cache of herbs he had there. Let's see. . . Oak leaves for the bleeding, and to stop the infection. He gathered up a lot of these, then grabbed one or two juniper berries, for good measure. These would help calm the girl down, at least. He pondered poppy seeds, but decided against it; he wasn't about to send the child back to Delight all woozy.

Zamael returned with the bundle of herbs tucked under his chin, the juniper berries held delicately on the tip of his tongue. He rolled them down by her paws. "Here, eat these," he said. "They taste kind of yucky, but they'll make you feel better." Not focusing on whether or not she would, in fact, do as he bade, he began to chew the oak leaves into a paste.

"I gott' put thi' on yo' scrat'hes," Zamael mumbled, the greenish goo coating his tongue. He looked down at the girl. "It'll may' you feel be'er, too. Is tha' okay?"