Bitterroot Valley one night only

Freyja was beside them then, and ears plastered against his skull, still lowered submissively, he looked at her in worry. From the shouts and words the trio had exchanged, he gleaned two names; Wildfire and Portia. He was willing to bet the the fiery woman was Wildfire, the other name stirring memories of a conversation weeks ago. 

he shifted a little nearer to Freyja, for she was the only one he knew and trusted, tail curled toward him as he tried to appear the smallest threat possible. Soon Portia approached, bearing moss and cobwebs and a herb his mind knew but could not name immediately in its frenzied state. Marigold. He held still as he pushed the moss, and then the poultice and cobwebs to his neck, relaxing in the slightest, though his heart still beat a frenzied tango in his chest.