The woman was now clearly in his view. She had kicked away his dagger, and he did not blame her now. With his immense pain, anyone would attack for fear of being hurt further. Fearing for your life was not a crime, and Cassius accepted this. The woman put away her own weapon, and Cassius calmed further. She had a satchel, undoubtedly full of supplies. She seemed like she knew just what to do, but where to start? She deliberated, it seemed, over his body and overlooking his intense injuries. His wounds were bad, you did not have to be a doctor to see that. His back was torn asunder and his left arm was completely useless.
But Cassius did not discriminate against gender. Anyone and everyone was good at something, and whether or not it is a man or a woman does not matter. What matters is if the person has a real skill, and if they love doing what they do best. To Cass, that is what mattered. Not loving what you do was like not being happy with your life and right now, although he felt like killing himself, Cassius was in love with his life. It was the reason that he wanted to keep living, despite the back breaking pain.
His suspicions were happily confirmed, as the woman announced to him that she was a healer. He could feel her hands touch his throat, pressing for the Jugular that hid in his neck. His pulse beat and beat, not helping his cause by pumping blood out of his body through his wounds. "Do not fight it, or you will die." A morbid thought, but probably a true one in this case, the 'yote nodded to the statement, just wanting to get through this terrible time. This woman was nice enough to help, even though he was obviously from Inferni. Many packs were very negative towards Inferni coyotes. Cassius couldn't blame anyone, especially with most of Inferni's old members' running track records in the area.
The woman now reached into her bag, ignoring the fact that her hands were dipped in his blood. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty (although hopefully not too dirty) and he liked how she didn't flinch at the gore. She'd obviously seen blood and gashes before, and with that it meant experience. And experience was especially important. The collie woman finally pulled out a green liquid, contained in a flask. She explained how the liquid was supposed to dull the pain, and a few other things but all the Southerner heard was "dull the pain" and he was immediately sold.
He nodded as much as he could, expressing a need for the anesthetic, no matter how weak or strong it was. He would very much like a strong one though, like anyone would. He stuck his neck out to reach for the bottle, desperate for the effect of the liquid. He didn't care if he was numb only slightly, anything less was better than what he had now. He would probably still feel quite a bit of the pain, but just anything less sounded like heaven compared to this.