Sun Mote Copse Kiss me goodnight

Yes, even a moderate infection would make sense given the amount of time passed. As for the wound placement, I think front left shoulder, towards the chest would be good. 

As the white male spoke the darker one eyed the skulls, the supposed medicine 

stashes. Rye found it curious that one skull belonged to a wolf, alarming but curious. 

Death and health in one, a brutal irony that Rye was sure to be on purpose. However that 

did not ease the churning of his belly but exacerbated his uneasiness. As the other male bowed 

Rye peered into the contents of the skulls and saw the assortment of herbs. An ounce of 

anxiety peeled away but no matter how convincing the wolf may appear, Rye would remain guarded. 

He did want help, his wound burned something fierce and it was starting to spread. There was no doubt 

an  infection, the male doubted he would make it another two weeks before Mother Earth would take him. 

The gamble to accept help had to be made.

Rye settled down and sat where he stood, lifting his wounded shoulder a few inches off the ground. The 

release of pressure brought with it pain and throbbing, second by second Rye worked through the pain 

and let go of the breath he withheld once the pain subsided. "Well Vein, my name is Rye. I do need help,

 I ain't afraid of admitting that but that wolf skull is ominous, a sort of red flag for a supposed healer." 

Rye knew so little about decomposition, the age of the skull was lost to him but it appeared fairly clean and dry.

"What healer carries around a skull of our own kind? Is it some sort of dark joke?" He indignantly asked, 

miffed about the sight of death in front of him. Ryes' slight indifference to death was caving, leaving fear and

annoyance to fill the vacuum.