The Sentinels my soul won't take

Anyone want to work on a Healing trade / specialty? Eigma has a few more days left to recuperate before she leaves. 

The days had gone by painfully slowly. The pain had eased of course; Eigma no longer awoke in the night with a trembling body, gasping for air. She did not expect much attention from the wolves of Donnelaith and was not surprised by their absence - she was a stranger, a freeloader, and it pained her more than any injury thus far that she was so useless to them. That Lasher saw fit to aid her at all was a blessing. She decided in one of her fleeting moments of lucidity that she owed him a great debt, and that it would be her duty to re-pay one day.

It was cloudy and mild when she woke. With effort she made her way out of the small, hastily dug den which had been excavated on the fringes of the druid wolves' territory, halting just outside of the sloping mouth. A patch of pale light filtered down between the immense trees, and she basked there for a while, listening to the calm of the trees, and breathing in the lightly salted air with carefully timed breaths. Soon she would be leaving this place. A part of her did not want to.