Kahel

Everyone knows the old rhyme:

Something comes when sunlight dies
Turn around and shut your eyes
Do not tread their mountain lair
For Wesen wolves leave nothing spared.

One of the last things you remember in childhood was that rhyme. A warning from your mother to keep away from the black mountain in the west, home to creatures said to bring fear even to the largest of bears. You doubt the validity of most Wesen tales, but you were never interested in encroaching on their territory to find out but, well...

Desperation drives many to do the stupidest things.

For days now, weeks even, you've been wrought with something. You don't know what it is. All you know is that the world had gone hazy, you could hardly breathe, and moving one paw in front of the other grew steadily harder with each passing day. You've no knowledge of medicine. Couldn't tell a medicinal herb from a weed. But even you knew that if you didn't do something, you were going to die a slow and brutal death. Might come as a shock, but you weren't exactly about to just roll over and let Death take you, no. Death would have to work if it wanted you.

So, here you are. In the darker reaches of the Wesen mountains, raiding a cave stocked floor to ceiling with plants. Home to the herbalist, most likely. You've watched the she-wolf long enough to know that when the sun is at its highest peak, she leaves the cave. You have until sundown before she returns to find medicine that could soothe your illness. Maybe even less than that.

You know next to nothing about the herbalist she-wolf, but you do know that the Wesen King protects her fiercely.

In your delirious, fevered state, you knock a bottle into the ground. It shatters into a dozen little pieces and a thick green goo sticks to your fur. Something might have heard that. You should get out while you still have the chance. The fever will take you soon, and if even a single Wesen wolf finds you in this state, you know that you wouldn't stand a chance.

Still.

Better to die fighting than to be taken by a sickness you couldn't control.

Standing up became a herculean task as your legs shook with the effort it took to remain upright. You didn't have to wait long for Death though. Faster than you could have ever anticipated, a wolf looms at the entrance of the cave, blocking you in. You only got a brief glimpse of unnaturally bright eyes before the wolf lunged at you, mouth open and fangs bared.

And then your world went dark.

.

..

...

You woke up groggily, with an ache in every bone, to a rhythmic sound of stone tapping against stone, to a sweet scent you've never had the pleasure of knowing before. Instinctively, you try to move. A rock you didn't notice was placed against your belly rolled and tumbled onto the ground with a very audible clack.

In an instant, the rhythmic sound stopped, and you were met muzzle-to-muzzle with eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. Very prominent fangs were not-so-subtly brushed against the vulnerable flesh of your throat.

"You invade my home, waste my medicine, and I still save your life," she all but growled against your ear. It was not how you expected an herbalist to sound. She did not sound like the docile, kind-hearted herbalists you've come across in your years of wandering. She sounded like a killer barely holding herself back from ripping your throat out, all rough edges and sharp syllables.

There's a good chance you might still die today, but the only thought that you could muster is that she's the most beautiful creature you've ever seen.

And she looked impatient. "Are you going to just sit there? Am I going to get a thank you or should I just kill you now?"

Definitely not like any herbalist you've ever met before.

She kept her eyes on you as you got up. You don't remember sleeping on a bed of soft leaves and dried moss, but you don't remember much of anything after the herbalist lunged at you. She probably put you in here precisely to question you.

If only you could give her an answer.

You opened and shut your mouth. The herbalist's burning eyes narrowed. You do it again. She snarled. "Are you mocking me, Outsider?" You shake your head and do it once more, gesturing to your throat. A few moments of tense silence passed between the two of you. Electricity seemed to bristle your furs. Finally, it clicked for her. "You can't speak."

You nod.

"Huh." She backed away and cocked her head, regarding you curiously. "Well I just saved you for nothing."

You snarl.

If she wanted to finish you off, then she'd have to fight you, even with what little strength you have left.

The display made her laugh. "Maybe not entirely for nothing, then," she conceded. "You've got fangs outsider, I'll give you that." There's a curl to her mouth that sets you on edge and a glint in her eyes that makes the cave feel warmer than it is. "Stay then, if you please." You cautiously lay back down onto the bed. She looks amused at your hesitation and returns to her work, starting up the rhythmic tapping as she crushes various herbs between rocks.

The brief rush of adrenaline had long since faded, and you feel keenly the aches and pains in your body. The fever is gone, thankfully. Likely her doing, but you would be a fool to trust her blindly. Before anything, she is a Wesen. Dangerous, volatile, answering to nothing save for the black beast rumoured to lead the pack.

As though reading your thoughts, she pipes up again, "Out of all the other packs, why come here? You must have heard the stories." She pauses to look at you, waiting for your response. "I know you don't speak, but I still expect an answer." You huff and point to a rack of dried herbs with your muzzle, and then to her.

"Herbs. My herbs?" Yes. "Why?"

Because, even as a lone wanderer, you've heard rumours about the Wesen herbalist. So renowned was her skill that it was said that the pack treats her delicately, as one would a flower, and jealously guards her from others who may covet her knowledge for their own. If you could laugh, you would. There's nothing "delicate" about the herbalist.

But you can't laugh, and you can't speak, and she still expects an answer. So you gesture to her again.

Judging by the scrunch of her brows, she didn't understand. It wasn't unexpected, but you will never get over the frustration. That, at least, she seemed to notice.

And quick a whip, she changed her line of questioning.

"Did someone tell you where to find me?" Nod yes.
"Did you come to kill me?" Shake no.
"Were you followed here?" No.
"Did you tell anyone else about me?" You gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. "Stupid question. Next:"
"Can you fight?"

That question gave you pause. Ever since you went solo, fighting had been your last option. An injury (or in your case, sickness) could lead to death. No, you ran when conflict stirred, and you remained in the shadows as much as possible. The answer should have been easy, but you hesitated. It has been years since you last locked claws with another, but the memory remains fresh in your mind. It would take some getting used to, but you've no doubt in your mind that you still retain the skills from your bloody past.

You nod.

The herbalist grinned, her prominent canines flashing against what little moonlight made it in the cave. "We shall see, Outsider. There may be need of you yet."

She turned back to her herbs. "Sleep. You're no use to me weakened." Maybe it was the medicine. Maybe it was her voice. Maybe it was just exhaustion catching up to you. For whatever reason, slowly but surely, you drifted. She was still talking, but you only catch snippets. "...name is Kahel...need another scout... start your vigil tomorrow...spilled my medicine. Unbelievable..."

You fall asleep listening to this strange herbalist complain about the rare medicine you spilled earlier.

You've no doubt she would make you work to replace it.