Coli felt her skin crawl as she realized what this stranger was asking for. Had he somehow known that he had stumbled upon the one wolf in Dahlia that coveted poison? Had he been fortunate enough that she was also easily pressured into committing acts she did not entirely believe in? Her lower lip trembled, staring with a dawning horror into his hollow mismatched gaze. She was touching a corpse. She automatically caught his outstretched hand, unable to suppress the slight shudder that his cracked pads invoked.
Silently, the werewolf swallowed, trying to steel her nerves. Being physically and mentally weak, she had always thought of poison as her own personal defense, something she could rely on. Now that she had a chance to try her mettle, to ply her skill... she needed to force herself to do this. The angel that had pulled her from the brink of death, she had wanted to repay him by saving this man's life. But he was too far gone, and she would have to embody a different breed of mercy.
"I... I'll make you a special tea..." she gulped, squeezing his withered hand with her trembling fingers. "If you drink all of it... you'll feel better. I promise the pain will go away." She tried to hold his eyes meaningfully, but a pang in her chest forced her to drop her gaze. Did this make her a murderer? She was going to kill someone. Premeditated homicide. The words kept repeating in her mind, and she tried to block out the image of her packmates' accusatory glares. She said nothing else as she slipped inside her cabin, leaving the door ajar in case the ill man decided to shuffle inside after her. She couldn't bear to look at his pathetic gaze any longer, though.
Colibri knelt on the dusty floor, picking up a small flowerpot that had been carefully hidden behind the curtain of the kitchen window. The plant was rather wilted, but still potent, the small purple flowers like stars underneath the streaming moonlight. Trembling, she reached out her claws, pinching the blossoms and letting them flutter down to the counter. For good measure, she decided to strip the leaves, too. A massive overdose of deadly nightshade. She had swallowed one stem, and it had nearly stopped her heart in minutes. This man was so underweight, and she was giving him more than triple the toxins. It would be as close to instant as she could manage. A sob caught in her throat, but she managed to tip back her muzzle and hitch a weak howl, a half-hearted call for Slay. If the Rosea's mate didn't arrive quickly, there would be nothing to say other than an epithet.
Colibri emerged from the cabin, stirring a steaming mug of drink. It hadn't taken long to light the neglected fireplace, to heat the dribble of streamwater left in the battered kettle. Maybe this man didn't care, but she did, she wanted him to have something warm on a night so cold. She pressed the cup into his weak hands, folding his fingers around the handle. Her throat was too choked to say a word, but she managed to nod to him, encouraging him. She knew what it was like to be at rock-bottom. She couldn't deny him this, not if there was no one in this world who could raise his flagging spirits. If there was anyone who loved this man, they would not have let him suffer so. If she was wrong... she would accept their consequences.