"I know you want to continue your work around the cult, but you must rest."

Lamb insisted, guiding you over towards your tent and helping you lay down. You're sick, deathly sick. They aren't sure how this happens, but they believe they may have made a bad batch of soup, mushroom soup, especially. Lamb had made the mistake of using poisonous mushrooms and was now on a mission to help you out of your sickness.

"Now, my child, please rest. I'll get you whatever you need while you're ill." They spoke softly, pulling a leaf blanket over you and patting your head. "You'll feel better in no time."