"Unfortunate. I suppose you know little more than I do, then. You've never seen creatures like this before?"

Raistlin doesn't sit, but he is leaning heavily on his staff and the tree, grateful of the opportunity to catch his breath. As much as it can be caught, anyway. The drifting smoke stirs up his already-inflamed lungs, and he fishes the herb packet back out, holding it to his mouth and nose as a precaution. The fit subsides, grumbling, and waits for its next chance.