Greatwater Lake Or something better, I could care less

The fit went on for just a bit more; the intermittent breaks in between making him think a death rattle to come swift, but it never did. Instead the wolf seemed to compose himself in spite of his weariness, in spite of the fact that he had been some mixture of coughing, hacking, and gagging just moments before. Still, no one came rushing to his immediate aid, and they were both left in the company of one another.

When he did finally speak, Valtari found that it was not nearly laced with phlegm like he would have imagined. It was stronger, clearly annoyed, and betrayed whatever illness stowed away in his chest. And it made him dangerous in that regard, for if he had been left here alone by his peers, then perhaps he was simply a very willing participant in sharing a contagion.

"It isn't worth anything to me," he stated, "thought perhaps you'd been left to die is all, and would save you the trouble of suffering had you wanted it." A sickly being could not hunt, not that there was much to hunt around to begin with. Why let him drown in his own snot and starve? His tail swayed against his hocks once, then twice, and Valtari considered other things.