Wapun Meadow get a medic for the general

Ugh, why wouldn't she leave? It was clear Maegi needed help, and all she offered was taunts and empty words. And normally this wouldn't have gotten to her--these sickly sweet sentiments wouldn't permeate her pelt--but she was shattered, trying desperately to pick up the pieces. It wouldn't take much effort to scatter them once more.

"Leave," she whispered, opening her eyes to look at the woman. She was so exhausted that her vision swam, turning the she-wolf into a muddled mass of brown before her. She shook her head, wincing--she'd not only had her face torn open, but was still recovering from that head wound as well. "Molag Bal is not coming," she said weakly. "He's not here."

But what if he was coming? A shiver ran through her, raising the hairs on her pelt. Unlike some others, the tales of the daedra were not fantasy, they were reality; Maegi believed firmly in her gods. And perhaps Molag was punishing her for abandoning her brothers. . .

Perhaps they all were.