It seemed he had been followed; Lecter caught the scent of the male who had been near the young wolf and Fox close to the sprawl of bones and assorted gris-gris that littered the ground outside his den, and emerged with a hateful snarl upon his lips. Icewater eyes bored into the male; nares flared to take in the scent of sickness that somehow underlay the Creekscent of the visitor.

"What is it you want?" the witch demanded, tail lashing behind him as he approached, pushing boldly into the few inches of personal space the other wolf had to himself. "I do not entertain guests."

Lecter growled lowly, but nevertheless he listened to that which the male had brought for him: a message from Jinx. So she had found another, and felt this creature worthy of his attentions? She alone was the only one, save Fox, who could command him, and he felt eagerness unfurl within him.

But there was unfinished business here; icewater eyes returned to the male who had brought him the summons. "You are hurt. Do not attempt to lie to me." He had seen it in the careful veneer of the other's pelt, the meticulous grooming only drawing attention to the dullness threaded through the once-glossy coat.

"How long has it been? And have you ever been tended?"

"It has not healed thus far. What makes you believe a few days' worth of rest will make you well?" Lecter advanced upon the male as he spoke, pausing when he was only a few feet from the Creekwolf's turned back. "It is within my interest, and to the advantage of this pack, that you be well. Therefore, let me tend you, or I will tell Fox of your refusal to aid us."

Perhaps the threat would work; Lecter turned, returning to his threshold, from which he grasped several assorted plants and dropped them in a heap at his own feet. He paid the other no mind; if the groomed male saw fit to escape Lecter's treatment now, then so be it. The witch would not give chase.

Lecter listened intently as the man spoke, his words punctuated with a fit of coughing. Horseplay — the male before him was past puphood, and therefore the shaman did not feel that frisking about was a good use of his time. Nevertheless, the pale witch let his breath out in a snort. "You are surely in pain when you cough, and there may be a bone cracked, though not broken. If it was shattered, you would have died many days ago."

The shaman paced in a circle about Ferdie, mumbling the names of various plants to himself. "I can ease the pain and the cough, but you will need to rest. Strain on an injured bone, the status of which is not known, may cause it to snap."

Icewater eyes found the painfilled gaze of the glossy man, and Lecter held them it for a long moment. "Do you accept my healing?" There was not sense in mixing together a potion if Ferdie was not willing to do as Lecter instructed.

Lecter hummed beneath his breath. "Sit. While Ferdie presumably obliged the madman, he went to rummage through his den, surfacing after a time with surprisingly fresh mint and a single poppyseed. Chewing them together, Lecter spat it onto a leaf and carried it by the stem back to his unwilling patient.

"The mint is to cool your throat and chest; it will help with the cough. The poppyseed is for pain. Do not swim or hunt for an hour after you have taken this; it will affect your senses." The expression upon the other male's face did not escape the shaman, and he snorted. "I can do nothing for your feelings. You must learn to live with them — or do not live at all. Harsh words, but then again, Lecter had never sugared his words.