Blackfeather Woods i don't know if i am real without you

Quiet had been told to seek out Cicero for spy training. She hadn't realized that it was the same wolf she had met in the golden plains, but without the means to ask, she simply wandered the woods in search of any life. She found life alright, but bruised and battered in a pitiable way. It was that very same philosopher from Hoshor, now worse for wear; wounds weeping all over his body, the tangy smell of infected wounds making her nose wrinkle in disgust. The coywolfdog chuffed to tear the wolf's attention away from whatever he was bending over, her eyes expressing her simultaneous fright and disgust at his condition. Did they not have healers? Wasn't he a healer or herbalist of some sort?