Stavanger Bay No one dies from love

Bridget heard the implied meaning in that and didn’t ask further. Even without that, the most telling clue was the blood, and combined with the fever it told her something was likely wrong reproductively. Long-standing pain spoke of inflammation, an infection of some kind, and the fever compounded this.

There are three herbs right now I’d try. Turmeric and chamomile for inflammation and infection, and ginger to help those along. If we are lucky, they’ll help quiet down whatever’s causing trouble, and help your body to handle it. Those were the ones she had in easy access, and she’d seen them used in adjacent situations with success.

It might help, too, to eat mainly fish and less red meat. That shouldn’t be too much of a problem here. Bridget smiled, then glanced off, back inland. If that helps, there’s a few other things we can try, but they aren’t anything I have right now and tend to be harder to find. I’d need to track them down.

If you want to try, I can go get the first things ready. Bridget paused, waiting for a confirmation. If her help was accepted, it seemed she’d be staying in the area a while, but she didn’t mind that. She’d left to find something of her own, but there was time for that still, and this was her calling. She’d wondered if a part of why she’d felt so disconnected in Brecheliant was the lack of anyone needing her help. It felt good to be working again, even while she felt for the woman in front of her. Injuries healed, but chronic pain was a whole other variety of hell. Bridget only hoped she could do something for her.