“How much do you follow the Healer’s Oath?”
Meadowbrook paused in her brewing. She turned to Salve. He looked pensive, on hoof against his chin, his face screwed up in concentration.
“What do you mean?” Meadowbrook asked.
“Our oath is ‘to heal everyone no matter the circumstances,’ right?”
Meadowbrook nodded.
“So, does that apply to monsters?”
“Of course.” Meadowbrook eyed the brew. It needed to simmer. She hung her ladle on the edge of the cauldron. “They may not be ponies, but they’re still living creatures with medical needs.”
“Plants?”
“Same, though the actual care would definitely vary.”
“What about if the wounded patient was an enemy?”
“A personal enemy or one from a country we are against?”
“Either?” Salve asked, uncertainty tinging his voice.
“I would still heal them, personally. Mine or my country’s bias should have no bearing on my choice to provide care as a healer.”
“Okay, so what about in the case of treatment being impossible?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like if someone was infected with an incurable disease?”
“Well, I would just work harder to find a cure for it.”
“But what if you couldn’t?”
“There is no disease that can't be cured. Just diseases that can’t be cured yet. Time and effort will find a solution.”
“But what if you didn’t have enough time? Or you couldn’t put in enough effort?”
“Then…” Meadowbrook frowned. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I just—” A heavy sigh “—I’m worried that I’ll be put in that position eventually and I don’t know how I should respond to it. Like do I give up or do I…” he trailed off.
“... It depends on the situation,” Meadowbrook answered. “Any number of factors can contribute to the problem making it harder to make the right call, but at a baseline, you do the kindest thing you can in the situation.”
Meadowbrook grabbed her ladle and stirred her brew again. It shimmered in the light, signifying that it would soon be ready to be bottled.
“... What if the kindest thing to do is to let them die?”
The ladle clattered to the ground. She whipped her head to look at Salve. He had a pained look on his face, as if he’d physically hurt himself by mentioning such a possibility. He anxiously waited for her response, tapping his hooves together.
“There’s a line,” Meadowbrook said. “And sometimes, the patient crosses it and we have to make a very difficult decision. To let a patient suffer when there is no hope of recovery and they may be unable to consent… it’s hard.”
“What’s the line?” Salve asked.
“... I don’t know, Salve. It depends.” She picked up the ladle from the ground, wiped it off, then gave the concoction a quick stir. It was ready. “Grab the bottles, please.”
Salve looked like he wanted to say something more, but held back his tongue. Without another word, he left to grab new bottles from storage. All the while, Meadowbrook felt her mind drift as it tried to come to a decision for what she would do.