Swiftcurrent Creek all of my holy

Fox was given a cool glance before he returned his attentions to his lover. She did not move away, and Lecter heaved a breath of relief. Backing away from her, the shaman whirled to lip into his maw the things he had piled on the ground outside his den. Returning swiftly to her, Lecter paused for a moment. "The poppy, Jinx." A push of his paw moved an oakleaf before her; the dosage there would cause her to slumber and remove all pain for the time being. She was in need of a deeper healing than Fox.

When she had presumably lapped up the seeds, Lecter murmured that she should lie down upon the loam, encouraging her onto her side so that he would be able to inspect the wounds between her thighs. Again he gathered the comfrey, the lemon balm, the spiderweb, but first he chewed yarrow and angelica together, placing it aside for when she awoke.

The wounds upon her neck and shoulders were ministered to in the same way that he had done to Fox. At length, he rocked back onto his heels to shake out the tension in his nape before leaning close to inspect the pusfilled lacerations between her legs. The lemon balm alone would not do; Lecter was in need of an astringent.

He loped back to his den, albeit somewhat stiffly, and returned with a precious mouthful of crushed chamomile. Mixing it with clean mud from the forest floor, he smeared it with nose and tongue across the worst of the slashes, layering the wounds with lemon balm, comfrey, and cobweb.

A cursory glance of icewater eyes beneath her tail assured him that the bleeding had stopped, though he was still struck with a pang of shame for inspecting her in such a manner.

"Warmth," the shaman muttered, struck suddenly with exhaustion. Unsure of how she would receive him, he laid down beside Jinx nevertheless, lying muzzle across paws. He would merely lie alongside her, bodies in close proximity to monitor her breathing.

Lecter slept.