Lost Creek Hollow He doesn't know when to give up

Harlyn moved as quickly as she could manage through the trees, using her memory to steer her towards what she sought rather than her nose. Prayers echoed through her mind as she went; prayers for speed, for Shikoba's strength, for the protection and guidance of the spirits, and for the blessing of the gods that she may find exactly what she needed to save her friend's life and soon.

The gods were kind in this at least. Harlyn came upon the herbs nearby where she remembered them from the previous Autumn. Some were but buds curling out from the earth. Others were already growing tall and strong. All were plentiful. The healer snatched what she needed and ran back to her charge with urgent, determined steps.

The alpha returned part of an hour later and dropped the bundle of plants at Shikoba's side. She whined softly to let her know she'd returned, but was uncertain of whether or not she would be heard. Nevertheless, she moved in to clean the gamma's wounds again as a mess of blood had returned to some that would obscure the effectiveness of her poultice. This cleaning went quicker, and soon enough Harlyn was smearing the thick mixture into the woman's cuts.