When Jasper woke to a pounding head and a dry, spongey feel to her tongue she feared the worst. All the stories were true, and she was the biggest idiot to ever walk the face of the planet. She was sick, and this land was cursed, and this was how she died. Probably. Of course, as the morning wore on, (inconveniently after she had already decided on most of her funerary arrangements — Accumulate flowers, wedge self into nearby hollow log,) Jasper came to realize maybe she had it wrong. By midday she'd settled into the idea that she did not, in fact, contract some otherworldly plague. It was probably just... some kind of cold. She was coughing and her nose wouldn't stop dripping but no ooze so far, so that was a win. The problem was that... Well, when she'd decided to pack up her metaphorical bags and set out on her own, the idea of getting sick hadn't really crossed her mind. Hadn't been in the 'Fuck You Guys I'm Out' pamphlet. After all, wolves passed sickness exclusively between one another as far as she knew, and she'd had no intentions of brushing shoulders with strangers. Naturally, this iron-clad strategy of hers had done what most plans do upon meeting the enemy. She lay on the banks of a small tributary stream, watching it wind along into the estuary, alternating between shivering and being grateful for the mild breeze as her fever waxed and waned. Maybe it'd just pass on its own, given time? Jasper could hope. "Talk" "Listen" Think

Viviane had finally ventured outside the pack boundaries once more - barely - in order to replenish stores that had been decimated by the sickness. Without other trained healers at the moment, she couldn't have in good conscience continued to wallow in her depression and left things as they were. So she did what was expected of her, and her heavy steps brought her out into the avian estuary to see what was growing there this time of year. She had a fairly good idea of what to expect, but not every marshy area grew the same herbs and she hadn't been trained last she'd come here so she hadn't noted what did or didn't grow. She certainly hadn't expected to stumble across a pretty female lounging on the banks of one of the little riverlets. She hadn't expected to smell the telltale scent of 'sickness' that automatically made her pelt prickle with anxiety even though it lacked the distinctive scent of the ooze. Hadn't expected to see the signs of fever glazing the pretty blue eyes. Really, really hadn't expected to feel the familiar tug of a healer being drawn in to help someone, not after what she'd been through and not with all the doubts and fears that had been dragging her down, but feel it she did. She moved so that the other female could hear her coming and not be startled, and approached. "Excuse me," she said hesitantly, though buoyed by that tug of connection she'd felt as a healer. "Are you all right?"

Jasper wasn't sure how much time had drifted between staring listlessly out over the water and the arrival of a stranger. It seemed like just a few moments... Had the shadows moved? Jasper raised their head to blink at a nearby clump of marsh plants, and soon became frustrated with how they insisted on remaining juuust out of focus. Boy, she really did not feel good... It took her another moment yet to remember something had roused her in the first place. It spoke to the extent of her pitiful state that the sudden arrival of a stranger didn't send her barreling face-first into the water. Even her ever-present buzz of anxiety was out for the count, which actually made it near criminal that Jasper was in no fit state to enjoy it. Swiveling her head slowly to the side, finding a pale shewolf more or less her own size, might as well happen on a day like today. Jasper let her head fall back down onto her paws. "'M so good," she drawled, staring down at her paws. Even if she had to go a little cross-eyed at least seeing double there made sense. "Never better, thanks for askin'." Maybe, she whispered to herself in a tiny hopeful voice. Maybe this woman is a tiny assassin and my luck has finally changed. "Talk" "Listen" Think

While Viviane didn't know what the woman in front of her was like normally, she doubted she spent her whole life in this state of feverish delirium. Well, she could have been drunk, but a healer's nose was sensitive and alcohol was a hard smell to cover - and so was sickness. Anyone else might have been able to walk away and let the woman alone. Whatever she was sick with, it probably wasn't anything serious, but Viviane didn't like the idea of leaving someone to feel miserable or worse on a maybe. "You're sick," she pointed out with a sympathetic smile. "That doesn't seem all that great to me. Would you let me help you? I am a healer."