Lost Creek Hollow forget about me and all of my dreams.

Harlyn was too practiced a healer to cringe outwardly when Ilya tried to speak and managed only a croak, but inwardly she was filled with pity.  To be without a howl as a wolf was a curse.  No longer would Ilya be able to venture outside of the packlands on her own, nor could they even allow her to patrol the borders alone -  Not when she had no way of calling aide to her side should she find herself in danger.  The alpha pushed the thought from the forefront of her mind, instead focusing on the cues Ilya was able to provide - a wag of her tail, the twitch of her brows, the parting of her lips.  She smiled softly to show that she understood, but said nothing otherwise as Ilya bent to inspect her medicine.
The Ostrega stared quietly as her gamma nosed at the bundle of herbs, her expression inscrutable.  The injured wolf paused as Harlyn watched, but soon enough she was gulping them down, obedient to her alpha's unspoken command.  Harlyn met her gaze when she lifted it and spotted the curiosity there after a beat.  She gave another smile.

"No one has seen anything of the beast still," she said, as though she could read the female's mind, "I was thinking today we might go outside of the hollow to the meadow.  I think your lungs could use the fresh air, and your limbs the workout."  Harlyn canted her head lightly, waiting to see what Ilya thought of the idea.  They would be safe - of that the druid was certain.  The gods would protect them on this journey.

Silas. Pip. Lark.