Bitterroot Valley a head start in hindsight

"I wouldn't say that" he breathes, narrowing his good eye and bad one. Hunter? It had been pure luck he had gotten away. But he didn't elaborate. He didn't get to. Suddenly he was thrown back, the male having enough from the inspection. He growled at Holland, saliva probably building up and refusing to puke. "throw up" came the healer's command, soft and commanding. He focused his good eye after situating himself. "your body ate something bad and is ridding itself of infection."

His lip curled as if thinking about what would happen if the man didn't. If he forced the bile back, he'd just get sicker and sicker. The poison would fester. He'd get infected and ill. He'd die. "This is natural" Holland empathized strongly "but if you don't throw up the bad prey, it'll poison your gut. Then you'll have a problem that many cannot help with." Especially when various herbs and flowers - precious to survival - were out of season. Holland was reminded that sage helped with digestive health but he didn't know where it grew.

But in the end, he could do nothing. He did not have the means to force the other wolf to get better. He had to keep going, and he could not babysit them forever. "Drink plenty of clean water, rest when you can..." he paused, shaking his head "the problem will sort itself out."