Ocean's Breath Plateau deadbeat

Almost already flat on the ground, it was only too easy to obey the stranger's words. She lay awkwardly, one foreleg folding beneath her chest, tongue lolling as she panted dryly. Lucani was dimly aware that this was not quite a dream, but it was some sort of in-between. She was dying: of this she was aware, and also of the concept that there was no hope. She considered the idea, though, in some broken manner, and natural instinct as a healer allowed her to go along with it. You can... try... to help me, she croaked. There's something in me, something... I've been made to consume. Something. For weeks, however. It's inside, and stays there. A fevered version of a medical brief.