Blackwater Islands soft like trees in water, shaped to soothe and move

if any were to object to her treatment in healing others, it was then they would know of her wrath. kind and caring was Galateia, sweet and soft—but she was a terrible force to be reckoned with when her passions, her work, were mistook for anything than what they were, or challenged. woe to any who question her within her field—all were deserving of her aid, lest The Mothers themselves (or Akantha) tell her otherwise. 

he emerged from the waters, and Galateia was true to her word—she attempted to do as she had said, and if he permitted this he would feel her tongue gently pressing against the areas she had noted needed work. once this was done, Galateia bid him to sit, if you will—I will retrieve some oak leaves, which both prevent infection and help close wounds, she informed. and then she moved to a cache not too far from them, retrieving what she had mentioned before returning to him. 

she chewed the leaves to a pasty consistency, and rubbed the salve upon a nearby stone, smoothed and cleansed by streamwater. Galateia had removed this some time ago, and twas the landmark she had brought him to and how she knew the cache was not so far from here. she looked to him. I will apply a small amount to your muzzle—it will sting, a little, and this is natural. if it itches too much, or it burns terribly, that is not, which is why I wish to apply only a little to ensure that you do not react adversely to it. some wolves cannot tolerate some plants, she explained—once again, she had not the word for 'allergy'. but so long as he could wander through oak forests without issue, he would have none here; Galateia simply wished to play it safe, and did not want him to feel any extra hurt. she waited for his consent before doing anything else.