The young heir cried out, and Katja turned her full attention to her as she wretched and threw up. A... sickness? Not an injury? What sickness could cause such a thing as tears of blood? The horror crawled down her spine, raising her fur as the superstitious fear shot through her. A curse from the gods, that was what it was. Even so, she forced herself to present calm, stoic comfort to the little one. "Shh, little valkyrie, be brave. I will help you," she murmured, moving to press her leg against her for support and pressing her muzzle to the fur of the pup's back. "The gods are with you. All will be well."
But she did not know how to make it well.
A healer was there, suddenly, and Katja spared her a single, grim glance. She would not relinquish her protective stance, though she allowed the Ebony healer to examine her. The woman spoke to the pup, a confusing babble to Katja as she was too distracted just now to concentrate on the unfamiliar tongue these Ebony wolves spoke.
Svetlana, Raisa's timid daughter, appeared as well with her fox companion to press herself against her sister. Katja made to ward her off, gently but firmly, speaking a warning. "Unsafe for you," she spoke swiftly, trying to keep her voice even and her words from dissolving into her native tongue. "For there does be risk of you sickening from contact. And you as well, fox, for pass it to your friend you could. Similar enough are our kinds. Perhaps you both could assist, by herb-finding and finding Raisa." What she didn't speak was the very real, and very dark possibility foremost in her mind - that if Valeriya were to die, Svetlana must live to be heir in her place... And that the contact might mean that Svetlana were already infected. She did not want to frighten Val further by insinuating that she might die.
No, the next wolf to arrive would do that quite well by herself, no doubt. A young Ebony wolf flung herself dramatically into the midst of the gathering, showing the same tell-tale signs of this sickness as the heir, declaring that she was dying, and that Val was too. Katja's masked face contorted in a snarl, curving closer and more protectively over the pup. "Hold your fool tongue," she snapped, fangs bared furiously at the girl.
Before she could even register that another healer had come, Val seemed to go limp. Swiftly Katja would scoop her paw under the girl's chest intending to ease her to the ground more gently. She shot a look to the healers, the sharpness in her gaze a blatant demand to do something.
"Speech"
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