In a way, he felt bad for the pups at the Sanctuary. Their mother was an irredeemable bitch, and their father was in love with another man. It wasn't their fault that they had been born into such poor circumstances; it had just happened. At the same time, though, they were well cared for--fed and clean and all that jazz--and they had each other. He knew all too well the power of having a sibling by your side. You could withstand anything, with that kind of alliance.

A distinctively childlike cry shivered through the rainy air as he was walking along, disturbing him from his thoughts. Speak of the devil. Grimacing, Zamael trotted that way, kicking up puddles as he went. One of the girls--couldn't remember her name--was lying on the ground, wailing. Her face and her leg was bleeding; fucking hell, what had she gotten into?

"Hey, shhh," Zamael said quietly, pulling to a halt and crouching down beside her. "You're okay, kid, don't worry. I'll patch that up for you. Can you get up?" He stared dubiously down at the pup, wondering if she was indeed capable, or if she had, like, broken her leg or something. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he leans back to sit on his haunches, waiting for her response.

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?"

He softened his eyes at her, hoping to soothe her protest. It didn't take much convincing--she finally bent and lapped them up, then nodded at his inquiry. Relieved to have been given the go-ahead (he would have gone ahead, regardless, but it was nice to make children feel as though they had some agency) Zamael began to groom her, spreading the paste over the wound on her leg.

It was soothing, or at least it would be if she stayed still and didn't squirm. He began to relax, himself, during the course of his work, eyelids drooping slightly as he continued on. When he had finished, the man straightened, lips puckered slightly from the pungent taste of oak on his tongue.

"Those berries were okay to eat, I promise," he assured her, addressing her earlier concern. Zamael fixed her with a gimlet stare. "But don't ever eat a plant unless Alarian or I say it's okay." His brother, beyond himself, was the only wolf he trusted to give herbal advice. There were two other categories of beings: ones who meant well, but were fucking stupid, and evil bastards that meant the girl harm. He would not let this girl--nor any of the innocents--fall victim to either of these characters.