Lion Head Mesa Doves and the boy

if maggie had known the scope of her crime against crowfeather, she might have brimmed with apology. or mockery. she fell inelegantly upon the paste he provided, seeking only the relief from pain he offered in the horrid mash.
it filled her mouth like the taste of bittered flesh, but maggie forced it all down.
her lips were flecked in the mess she had made of his medicine.
"oi don't 'ave no taste for food, doctor," maggie breathed. agony radiated through the crown of her head. the blood began to pulse in rivulets down into her eyes once more. the fever rose to encircle her throat. "just stop me from cryin' out too much when it comes time, won't you? won't do for me to be howlin' an' carryin' on."