Secret healing for a secret hurt

Of all the Armada wolves,  Iolaire and Sirius had spent the most time on the plains during the harsh affects of the volcano. Preparations had needed to be made so that the pack could finally go home. Spending so much time in the ash covered land had taken its toll on the diminutive fae. She'd developed a harsh cough. When asked about it by others,  she blamed allergies from the changing of the seasons. Really though,  the woman's lungs were caked with nasty, ashy remnants. 

There were times when Iolaire's nose would run and the mucus within was dark and dirty. There was no one to blame but herself.  She had known the dangers of breathing contaminated air and had done it anyway.  This was the price for her lack of care. Thankfully,  she knew how to alleviate the symptoms. 

At the edge of the wet, flooded plain,  Iolaire set up her station.  The tiny woman built a small pyre of wood and kindling which she placed inside a bowl shaped divot in the sand. Next she removed her flint and steel.  Striking the pair against one another several times,  sparks flew.  Some of those sparks caught hold of the cattail fluff that Io had used as a starter. She blew upon the ignited kindling,  the end of each breath wheezing slightly.  She would allow the fire to burn down to red hot coals. Only then would she be ready for the next step. 

As she waited for the fire to slowly consume the wood,  Iolaire prepared the main portion of her treatment.  From within her pack she pulled a stone bowl. Padding to the  sea, the woman filled the bowl with water,  taking it back with her to the fireside. Within another small dish,  Iolaire ground a concoction of dried herbs into a fine powder. There was a healthy dose of peppermint, melaleuca, eucalyptus,  lavender and thyme, among other things. These she would sit aside as she continued to wait for the perfect batch of coals. 

A heavy,  barking cough sent fire through the woman's chest. Spots swam in her vision and her head began to pound slightly. Io closed her green gold eyes and fought for even breathing though her throat still spasmed with the intent to cough again. A sneeze soon followed and some of that dark mucus spattered her pack.  The small healer wrinkled her nose in distaste. Disgusting. 

When the coals were as she wanted them to be,  Iolaire carefully placed the basin of sea water in the center of them.  She would wait until the water began to form little,  rolling bubbles.  The heat of the coals finally did it's thing and the water began to boil.  Fetching a large,  cured deer hide,  Iolaire  draped it over her head and shoulders. Leaning over the fire, she dumped the contents of her herb bowl within the water.  Closing her eyes,  the healer began slowly breathing in the herb infused steam.  The various oils would work to open her nasal passages while the steam itself would cleanse and moisten dried lungs.

Periodically,  Iolaire would have to sit back and take a few breaths of the cool breeze that was drifting in off of the sea. Heat was hot and, dammit, this was some hot,  hot heat. Her maw parted and she panted,  releasing stored up heart from her own body in the absence of sweat glands. There was only so much a body could take at one time. These little breaks were incredibly necessary. 

In addition to her breathing treatments, the woman had taken to chewing mint leaves during the day.  She had also crafted a eucalyptus soap, combining pressed oil from the leaves with rendered oxen fat.  The clean scent permeated her coat and helped to keep her congestion to a minimum.

Every night for a full week, Iolaire came to the beach and performed her ritual. One week turned into two. Two into three. In time,  she could feel her lungs settling.  Her throat began to feel less and less as though she'd swallowed a cactus.  Her coughing began to cease and the dark mucus thinned until it finally ceased to be.  Her lungs still rattled at the end of hard exhales,  but that too would pass.

The process had been an experiment. Yes,  she'd steamed others before,  but never herself and never in quite a manner.  Before,  a cave had always been used as the rock would hold in the moisture.  She found that the draped skin worked just fine,  if not better as it held the moisture closer to the face.  All in all,  the tiny healer was pleased with her findings.  She would add this knowledge and it's application to her vast healing repertoire. One never knew when breathing ailments would arise. Especially in a joint pack with as many members as Ashen possessed. If such an illness did arise however,  she would be ready for it.