The silver warrioress was sunbathing just outside her den, which laid just three strides within the border of Glorall on the northernmost corner. She hadn't completely ignored the wound from the hunt, however she has been procrastinating on seeing a healer; she really has only bathed it in the salt water, and took care to keep it clean. It wasn't that she dislike healers themselves; it was the fact that she didn't like being fussed over, or be worried over. Though, to be frank, the wound still burned with heat that rivaled the fires of hell; especially when she moved. At least she had succeeded in executing her revenge on the creature; she'd only have to it meet again when she herself makes her way down to the fiery pits. But that day is far off, but should it comes sooner than expect or later than expected, she'd welcome death as an old friend.

Her head snaps up, black tipped ears pricked at Solitaire's call. She immediately regrets the action which aggravates her neck pain. Carefully she gets her black paws, making sure not farther the pain; she goes to meet the pale boy. As she approached the male the strong scent of herbs gave away to why he had called her. "Good day, the cut over your eye seemed to have closed up well." Her voice rasped, not used to speaking. "So I’m guessing you called me here to see what you can do to help my wound?" Since he had gone through the trouble to gather the herbs and call her here, the least she could do is let him do as he feels fit. She settles on her haunches, brilliant green eyes trained on him patiently.