Sawtooth Spire concrete solutions to slow our decay

Echelon did not take the news well. Great. Just perfect. The Healer was not keen on sticking his face anywhere near her mouth, her rising unrest adding to his anxiety. Should have stayed tucked away in his den it seems. Ears and eyes conveying just how sorry he was, the sentiment was tempered by underlying reassurance: this needs to be done. Tatsuya does not know anything about the coywolf's past injuries. Has she ever had a septic wound? Does she know what it feels like? The wolverine has tasted enough pus filled lesions. One more was too much.
INDENTHere goes nothing. Mentally steeling himself, he leaned forward. This time he did not stop, closing in on the festering wound. Hesitancy gripped him as she growled. Despite this, the Healer opened his mouth to begin administering the plant on (and in) her cuts. It appeared to sting, flesh twitching and bunching together beneath practiced strokes of tongue. Or that could be Weirdie's attempt at snarling. Please don't rip my face off. The prayer echoed in his mind like a mantra. Pissed though she may be, Tatsuya did not want to do a half-arsed job. The scourge of her fangs pushed him to go about this as promptly and proficiently as possible. Until then, would Echelon fight off the urge to bite?