Lion Head Mesa the jokes' worn thin, the king's stepped in

For several days after being poisoned, Leshen had avoided returning to the witch’s realm. Her medicine had indeed helped him recover, however the wolf was not keen on ever reliving the horrific hours of strangling pains he had experienced that night.

Yet, it was the fact that he did live that brought him back to this place.

She could have killed him, easily and without another thought. Instead, she had spared him. Though not without severe punishment, as he deserved. Leshen mulled over her offer of work, not a word that he minded, and eventually he began visiting the meet-place again. Same time, every day.

For a while she was not there. Until suddenly, she was. Leshen approached in a lank trot, neither cautious nor aggressive. They were even, as far as he was concerned; no need for him to cower or enact retribution. He paused before her, extending his muzzle with an inquiring sniff. What happened to you?