Blackfeather Woods 'Cause sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind

near Wispmother's Grotto ? Note: This is Juvenile Kidney Disease EDIT: Greencough (Because I am weak and can't kill wolves) 

  Hecate had almost everything she needed. Marigold was a important part of the healing, and she had collected some for the pack. Her own wounds had clearly healed, but some still remained, the worst ones, of course. Her calculations were incorrect and the remaining ones were actually serious because, in what she knew, one of her wounds had gotten infected. In her time here, she was away from the other wolves, healing in her own spot, also where she kept the herbs, afraid of her 'sickness' catching onto others.

  Her small collection had grown, but it was mostly based on herbs that heal wounds. Lonely was a feeling she had gotten used to here, but that also lead to her unaware of time passing by. Right now, she kept her mind occupied by organising the area so that everything has easily found. She tried to keep her mind away from the thought of what infection she might've gotten, in which she had received memories of dead wolves. 'Apollo's Wrath', her pack has called it, is what she had gotten. Not many survived it, sadly.

  She hummed a tune loudly as she pushed the bay leaves into the side, finishing her clean up. Hecate, known by many to be fairly calm, was panicking. She could die! But she was too young! What she was going to do, Hecate didn't know. She suddenly felt the urge to puke, turning her head towards the side and expelling her small breakfast out. Whimpering like a young pup, she turned her head from the vomit and tried re-organizing. The female's whole body shook as she attempted turn her focus away from what was happening.