Sleeping Dragon been half goddess, half hell

The middle-aged Healer gave a short nod to show she understood. Thuringwethil was uncertain at first, thinking perhaps only of how fierce and mad some cougars could be (Lucani knew this only from hearsay), but then settled on an answer. This was good. She had no doubt Gyda was capable of leading Sleeping Dragon well enough on her own, but the idea of Thuringwethil, their Heda, going rabid... that would leave a scar that would show on the pack forever. So they were safe from that fate, at least.

The wounds were deep, and Lucani's cache of herbs was too far from here. The girl was bleeding thanks to her trek — this was an emergency. Thinking fast, Lucani eyes flew to a dark clump of weeds nearby. I'm going to apply goosegrass to stop the bleeding. Do stay awake, now, she insisted again in her otherwise respectful voice.

With a dash to her step, Lucani found (to her quiet relief) a good growth in the weeds. Goosegrass was sticky, and unpleasant to hold, so it was difficult to place it at Thuringwethil's side. When she'd done so, she swiftly chewed both herb and seed and applied the juice delicately to all three wounds. They were too deep to lick, but the juice would purify the blood to help prevent infection and to slow the bleeding itself. Once this was done, she set about using the remaining sticky seeds, which clung like hell to strands of fur, as makeshift stitches — anything to close those gaping wounds. This would be a cumbersome and painful process.