Sitri had woken up briefly to be moved from the feet of Cara and to make a bed a little ways away. Where he hung between life or death and the black veil that covered them. His eyes worked feverishly beneath his lids, the skin of body hot to the touch beneath his dark coat. Spasms worked their way up and down his spine and his legs, the wound in his neck itchy and raw and liquid spilling from beneath it's folds. He could go either way really, but at the moment he just was.
His breathing was erratic and misplaced, and his heart beat a heavy tattoo on his ribcage as he waited silently, in darkness. Into the recesses of his own mind he traveled and the dreams and the thoughts that plagued him, causing the absolute fury of his existence to beat heavily against it's chains. He had broken free and now his body and his mind and his soul all wanted a piece of the real world and frankly he was so far lost in his own consciousness that nothing could he tell was going on around him.
She had been summoned by her former packmate, the Beta male Kaname to save one of their males. They had no healer and were desperate, and had promised her compensation, something she would exploit later on. But for now, she gathered her battle herbs and headed to the Spine, a trot in her step, but she did not hurry.
She found him, the brute Sitri, lying on the borders, his body spasming as he lay there. She walked closer, examining him from all sides, finding the largest wound on his neck still bleeding. The priestess ran her nose through his fur, wincing at the heat. His wounds had gotten infected, and if she didn't act fast he could die. Before she began treating him, she spoke to see if he was even conscious to ingest some of the herbs she had. "Can you hear me, Sitri?"
In his mind he ran and on the outside his legs moved rapidly and without direction, and if he was not careful. Not that he really noticed he would knock the poor healer over in his delirium. He could not hear her, not that he wouldn't have liked to see her again. He was just so far gone that he was unable to at the moment. A savage growl worked its way up from his chest, as he fought the demons in his head and the darkness on his eyes.
The priestess jumped back with surprise as Sitri's massive limbs flailed. She was nearly hit with one of them, and her ears pressed back in fear. The brute growled at something haunting his brain, lurking in the dark crevices of his mind. Something she would have to work dark hexes on in order to release. But she was not hired to heal his mind, only his body.
The priestess moved carefully to his back, focusing on the large wound there. She lapped at it tentatively, feeling the heat radiating from its core. Meldresi took a clump off moss and pressing it onto the wound, using it to soak up as much of the red liquid as she could. When it grew too saturated, she got another, until she used up all the dry moss she had.
Taking out the some of the dried leadplant and bergamot, she placed it on the wound, then covering it in wet moss. It would help with infection, but the infection had already spread to Sitri's mind, giving him a fever. She needed to give him herbs that needed to be swallowed to help with that, a dangerous task given his condition.
HE stumbled quiet a few times and growled savagely as he snapped at the ground. Thinking he was being tripped by thousands of tendrils of roots, that weren't really there. He feel one more time and lay panting unable to move for a moment as he fought to stay conscious again.
The feverish brute stood, limbs trembling as he hallucinated. He muttered something about water, before he fell again, fighting the darkness of unconsciousness. Meldresi did not have water; wet moss and dried herbs did not too well together. Instead, the priestess snatched the last bit of dry moss she had and ran to the nearest water source she was aware of.
It took her a few minutes to run to the stream, soak the moss and collect other mosses to soak, but it took long enough that it worried her. Would Sitri have died by the time she got back? The dark furred female raced back, water splattering into her face as she ran.
Surging to his feet, he sniffed at her face trying to find the water. He needed it, he was burning up needed something. He froze muscles quivering and legs feeling like jello as he tried to keep his eyes on the path before him and the wolf that stood there. Water for Sitri?
Luckily, the brute was made of tougher stuff. When she returned she was greeted with glowing red eyes, still fevered, but bright. She pressed the wet moss to his mouth, allowing him to take water for himself. "Yes, water for Sitri." She echoed before returning back to her bundle of herbs.
She replaced the herbs on the largest wound before searching his body for other external scars, of which she found many. The next worst scar was on his muzzle, where the deep bite wounds still spilled blood. She gently took the sodden moss from his mouth and squeezed it, cleaning the blood and dirt from the wound.
He winced when she cleaned some of them, but most of them he laid still and let her do what she needed to. He was getting sleepy, though he struggle hard against the darkness that wished to consume him. His father had told him, it wasn't time to die yet. So he was heeding his words as best he could.
She cleaned the muscled beast of all the dirt that she could get rid of, saving him from a bad infection and relieving his fever in the meantime. The juices from her herbs had seeped into the flaming red wounds, and were going to work their magic on him slowly. She placed the remaining bits of them nearby for them to use later, and nudged the little black specks, poppy seeds, that she had saved into his mouth. He needed to sleep, undisturbed by fever dreams. Satisfied by her treatment, the priestess turned tail and headed back to her dark forest.