He watched her with silent amusement as she struggled to devour the plants he had placed before her. Even with honey soaking their leaves the plants were by no means tasty. If she had been a little older he might have given her the herbs with a squirrel or rabbit’s foot—something to take most of the bite away.
The sweet grass went down easy, as expected, although her nose still wrinkled in protest. Lachesis did not mind the taste of the grass, for he had taken it a number of times to fend of colds before they could weaken him. Although he busied himself with both his leadership and fatherly duties XIX tried to take care of his body as much as possible. He could not be there for his pack or children if he fell ill.
“I know it’s yucky,” he commented absently as he watched her crunch down onto the bark, her little teeth working hard to chew it into swallowable pieces, “I’m sorry. It will help, I promise.”
The cloud watched as a yawn tugged at the girl’s jaws, and could not stop himself for mirroring her. He frowned at himself but did not protest the weariness that washed over him. He needed to ensure that Risaela did not react to the herbs and that she got a sound sleep. Rest paired with the medicine would surely chase off the bulk of her cold, but he wanted to be sure. He tucked in beside the tawny cub, his chin resting against her small frame. “If you’re feeling better in the morning Uncle Cloud will take you somewhere cool, okay?” He suggested, knowing that the little bird would not refuse an opportunity to adventure.
stick with those who stick with you