Sickened Love

"I can't help your friends, little one. Begging will do you no good."
She returned to all fours. "Please," she cried. "They're dying!"
"And so is my patience." He crossed his arms and squinted down at her. Snarling, he gestured towards the exit.
The young mare stood her ground. She whimpered under his gaze. "Please," she whispered.
The sorcerer released a sigh, returning his attention to the blurred image. He saw one of the mares stifle a cough beneath the blanket- not that it would do her any good. They were all infected. They were all dying.
The one being that had come into contact with the disease, showing still no symptoms, stood here in his cave. Groveling at his feet.
And with that sparked an idea.
A sinister smile stretched across his tired face.
"Perhaps," he purred. "There is something I can do..."