There's A Marching Band Still Playing In That Vacant Lot

Once the concoction was ready Lúta dipped her paws carefully in the liquid and applied it to her ears, wincing a bit at the cool yet burning sensation when the oil touched a few open cuts, caused by her scratching at the mushrooms. With that done she lapped gently at the rest, enjoying the soothing menthol on her throat. While she savored her drink a small yearling with ram-like horns appeared. She tensed. "Please, don't come closer." Thankfully the yearling seemed intent on keeping a distance. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. I seemed to have picked up a fungal infection. I don't know if I'm contagious, I don't want to infect you." She wished she knew for sure. The good news was neither of her companions had showed symptoms but they'd also taken care to keep their distance and to clean up after any contact. "There are many strange things happening in these lands. I think I contracted my illness from falling in a river of glowing algae." Well, fell wasn't quite correct. She dove head first into the river to save another girl.