"Argh! Stop it," Chickenhound moaned as Winifred applied a wet cloth to the wound in his neck. "You're hurting me!"
Winifred paused to swipe the wet cloth over the fox's forehead. "I know it hurts, but it'll get a lot worse if I don't clean it now. Please lie still."
Chickenhound gritted his teeth. He had outfoxed Cluny's hoard, he had gained entry to the place that Cluny was trying so hard to and failing, and now here he was, at the mercy of an otter?
But whatever herbs she and the old mouse had applied were working wonders on the painful wounds he had sustained from the rats and the bramble when he had climbed out of the ditch. He made a mental note of which ones they had used- a healer fox had to know everything there was to know.
Chickenhound winced painfully as Winifred continued cleaning his fur. Determined not to cry out again, he diverted his attention to the rest of the room they called 'infirmary."
What an astounding amount of good things there were in this place, indeed!
A mass of treasure for a clever young healer fox, for certain.