---

Paywall, indeed. The sliver of canine silver slunk to her paws, movements animated and fluid despite her injuries - in spite of them, it seemed. The woman danced closer, and Silvercreek arched a brow and allowed her to close the distance. She smelled sweet and floral, not what he was expecting underneath the tang of her own blood mixed with the foul musk of coyote.

She could try to snap up the flowers and run, but they both knew she'd only earn a faceful of the Silvercreek's fangs for it.

She made no move for his bargaining chip, though, only circled Silver as if sizing him up. She delicately sniffed at the fine strands of his silky coat, before meeting his eyes with her own owlish, unsettling gaze. Silver found he wasn't sure what to expect next from the sprite - but did not find that trait offputting. She was a pretty thing, he decided, although his particular taste for another individual hadn't really factored into what partners he pursued or avoided in the past. He wasn't going to be led astray or weakened by lurid scarlet eyes batting their lashes at him - or even peering into his sage irises like she was very vaguely considering what he'd look like dissected like the damn coyote.

I'm no good at deciding, the woman began. Silver hmmed evenly in his chest, acknowledging the statement but encouraging her to continue. He was sure she was not finished; she was clever, and she needed the herbs he now possessed. The waif wouldn't leave it there, and she didn't - Silvercreek's brows arched a bit more as she spoke, a mild-mannered but mischievous smirk curving at his lips.

Oh, my. Had I known what kind of thrilling menu could be summoned with the offer of a few flowers, I might have gathered a better stockpile. Her comment about secrets had visibly piqued the man's interest - he didn't need that currency to pay his way through the hell he'd found himself in once, but old habits were hard to break, and he liked having power over others. Physical was enjoyable enough - it was the gossamer spider-strings of manipulation weaving one into a trap that he'd truly excelled in the art of, though.

Decisions, decisions...What do you think of this, darling: I will tend your wounds, and then I will ask three questions. You will answer with honesty. When you have answered my questions three, little lady, we shall have no further debt to one another. The Silvercreek's eyes glinted with an unveiled glee, the contract hanging spoken into the air between them with the coiled tension of a cat about to pounce. His plumy tail curled at the end, a mild tilt to his head betraying an almost boyish playfulness amongst the otherness predatory energy he'd introduced to the moment.

---

Fearless, shameless, she slid to her belly as if offering up such vulnerability didn't cross her mind as a threat.

A spike of jealously stabbed through Silver, nailing his stomach to his spine with an envious and brief fit of hate within his soul. How dare she live so free of the burdens he carried?

The sensation, vile and overwhelming, was gone as quickly as it had formed. Silvercreek brought his muzzle closer to the nape of the woman's neck, shifting his attention across her wounds. Not so serious to kill her - serious enough to slow her so something else could, though. The man lowered his jaws close to her fur, close enough for an exhale to ruffle through the silver fur not yet matted by her own blood...

When was the last time he'd touched anyone?

Silvercreek knew the answer too quickly. The last time he'd killed someone.

He blinked amidst his pausing, once, then twice. Do it. Do it, you coward. What are you waiting for? If your mother could see what you are, she'd cry until her heart split itself in twain. He shuddered in a breath, small but grounding.

Silvercreek parted his jaws, rasping his tongue across the injuries to clear any debris and excess blood so the herbs would stick where they were intended. He ignored any flinches his attentions brought, drawing away once he was satisfied but pausing before he began to chew the herb cocktail he'd gathered.

Would you even know if I did lie? Silvercreek chuckled once; a cold hnph and nothing more. He liked this one.

I wouldn't know; but I might suspect. Are you a bold enough gambler to chance I buy your bluff instead of taking what I am owed? Silvercreek dipped his head gracefully, pulling the herbs apart with his teeth and paws until he could chew them into a suitable paste. They would help prevent infection, speed healing, and keep the wounds less open to the elements. There were no guarantees, not without a skilled healer with a vast cache and many days to devote to their craft. But it would do.

---

They fell into a not-so-companionable silence as Silver chewed the gathered herbs into a paste. He grimaced at the overpowering taste, but a deal was a deal.

Such folly had led him into hell for years, but he was free now. But still beholden to his word. Some things never changed.

Even if he could never reclaim the boy he'd been, he had his word as his bond. Silver twitched an ear, pressing the paste to the deepest wounds first before moving with the remnants to the shallower punctures or lacerations. The waif shifted, splaying her hind legs out and her porcelain belly revealed itself beneath the Silvercreek's looming form. He pulled his head away, glancing down briefly before skimming his gaze up to catch her crimson gaze. Like a blood moon, she stared at him, defiant mirth glinting in his visage.

His tongue snaked across his maw, sweeping away the last dredges of the healing mixture from where it'd stained his pale sterling fur. And so I shall.

A deal was a deal. Silver settled his haunches into the snow, curling his tail around him. My first question: What did you hope to gain from.... A sly glance at the jutting corpse still laying not far from the pair. Mauling that coyote?

Sue him, he was curious.