The three men shed their shirts and rolled up pant legs as needed to display their wounds.

Calista sat next to Channing first, who looked the least banged up of the three.  She slapped the antiseptic ointment on his wounds, making him flinch and whimper.  She wasn’t deliberately rough, but neither did she make any effort at all to be gentle the way she usually would.  She didn’t bother with the numbing gel at all as she stitched up the worst of Channing’s cuts.  The young lycan struggled not to move, and whined like a puppy for most of his treatment.

Still silent, Calista washed her hands and moved on to Rannulf, who she treated the same as Channing.  Though he sucked his teeth and flinched when the antiseptic touched his wounds, he did not whimper or whine like Channing.  He sat as stoically as possible while she worked.

Rannulf watched her work, and backed away when she approached him for his turn.

“Get the numbing shit!” he barked.

Calista glared at him coldly and continued towards him without doing as he demanded.

“The numbing shit!  Get it or don’t touch me!” he snarled.

“Fine.  Get out,” she said flatly, pointing towards the door.

Rannulf’s jaw dropped and he stared at her.  He glanced at his brother and friend, who looked away and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Numb me!  That weird freak last night got me worse than the other two.  I need to be numbed first!”

“Oh, really?  Well you should’ve thought of that beforehand!  Besides, are you saying Gunnolf and Channing are tougher than you?  They have higher pain tolerances?  They’re stronger?” she asked, a bit of taunting in her tone, though there was no amusement anywhere in her expression.

Rannulf’s jaw dropped again.  His yellow eyes raked over his brother and friend, who still refused to meet his gaze, before settling back on her.  She had him backed into a corner.  If he insisted on being numbed now, he would lose face.  He had to choose between punishments, now.  Either he accepted the pain of receiving medical care the way Calista was offering it, or he faced the humiliation of having to admit that two weaker lycans who followed him were actually tougher than him.

With a snarl, Rannulf stomped over to the seats and flung himself down, scowling.

Calista treated him, and he growled and snarled the whole time.  His carrying on was every bit as bad as Channings, hidden behind a facade of aggression.

Calista washed her hands a final time and flung tea packets at them, then held open the clinic door for them to leave.  No further words were spoken as the three left.

When they were gone, Calista leaned against the door and let out a shaky sigh.  She wondered if it would have been better to turn them away; refuse to treat them because they’d attacked her.  But then, only the four of them knew what had happened, and she doubted the pack patriarch would take her word over theirs.  So she didn’t think she could get away with not treating them without attracting other problems to her doorstep.

The young healer rubbed her hands over her face and massaged her temples.

“Grandma… Mama… what should I do?  Am I handling this right?  How do I solve this mess once and for all?” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling.  She shuddered a little, and ran her hands over her arms to soothe herself.  With a sigh, she let her arms drop and headed back out into the garden to finish her pruning and harvesting.

When all the herbs had been collected, she added them to the counter with the previous armload, and got to work sorting.  Those that needed to be dried, she hung up on the herb drying rack.  Those that were used in pastes, she ground up in one of her many mortar and pestle sets, cleaning them when she ran out of unused ones to prevent contamination between types of herbs.  Any that needed to be cooked, she diced up and used to fill several small, cast iron cauldrons of water that got hung up on a bar over the workroom fireplace.

While she minded the herbs being cooked down, she mixed up fresh tea blends, poultices and tinctures with supplies that were already made.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and she bid Bardoul and her father goodbye after sharing lunch with them.  As they prepared to leave, Fridolf looked at each of his three daughters.

“This shipment is an important, and profitable, one for our family.  I want to bring each of you girls back a gift to celebrate.  What would you each like?” he asked.

“Oh!  Papa, I would like a fine new dress from the big city!  That would really impress Connor!” Ulva said, clasping her hands together.

“Papa, papa, get me a lovely new set of jewelry!  Maybe I’ll find a fiance of my own like Connor if I show how rich we are by wearing expensive jewels!” Orfilia exclaimed, so excited one could imagine her tail wagging even though she was in human form.

“Calista?” Fridolf asked, looking fondly at his youngest.  The young woman snapped to attention and blinked in bemusement for a moment.

“Oh, a gift?  I don’t know… I don’t really need… Well, I suppose some new herbs for the garden?  Seeds, I suppose, since not much would be in season now.  It would be nice if it was something I don’t already have growing?  But it doesn’t matter if it’s not new.  I need to plant new strains of existing plants now and then to keep them from becoming too inbred.”

Fridolf pursed his lips and gave his daughter an almost disappointed look.

“Are you sure?  You don’t want a dress or jewels like your sisters?  It could help you find a mate,” he said in a wheedling tone.  Calista frowned and shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t really have much chance to wear such things.  They would collect dust in my closet, or get soiled when I have to work.”

“Very well,” Fridolf shrugged, “I’ll see what I can find.”

Orfilia stuck close to home when Calista told her she didn’t want to be left alone, but she didn’t bother helping with any chores, that day.