Did Ziv want a healer to come tend to her wounds? No. She would rather die than let some human assist her. But was she going to accept one? Yes. Because as shameful as it was to have a human see her this way, to care for her, she would be the only one to ever know about this. Because if Malcoda was not killing her, then she would live to be able to fight him again. And she would kill him. And then, it would just be her with this secret, and with her wings that worked. So in response to Malcoda's question, she nodded silently.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to be here, laying in a human house, bleeding and in pain and waiting for a human to come help. She was supposed to be bringing Malcoda's dead body back to Hades, she was supposed to be dragging the runaway pup by the scruff of his neck and throwing him before the master. And since the fight had not gone her way, she should have been killed by now.
Closing her eyes, she began to shift, her bones cracking and flames hissing all around her, little moans and grunts of pain escaping from her as her body rearranged itself. When she looked human again, and her injuries looked far worse, Ziv let out a small, defeated little sigh and let herself lay limply on the floor. She would never wish for death, that was the coward's way, but if ever there was a time when she might, this was it.