The Sentinels where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night

She had not been there when the world had swallowed up their sister forest. She had not been there, but she could have helped; Lotte had needed more support then but Hemlock had been razing lives all her own and putting an end to the Hellcat that had taken Palisander's life. This was different, she reasoned, and while she'd followed the Family like a faded flame on it's outskirts this time she did not stay away. She approached @Lotte and @Arturo with the findings from her last foray away from the pack and among the outer fringes of the untouched area of the Sentinels. She didn't have much thyme but she'd found a few little sprigs and brought them to the lord and lady. She sat down, waiting as Lotte sang her song and she hoped - hoped that she might find the same hope that it seemed Lotte had in her heart. 

She nodded towards the sparse herb leaves. "They will help you sleep." Hemlock murmured quietly. "The trip will take a lot of energy." She added, as if it wasn't known. It wasn't as if she didn't think her friends knew, but still, she fretted over them and it felt like making up for lost time. She'd ran the perimeter of their little group, charred earth a solemn reminder of what she'd missed - this, this seemed different. It was a new start, but Hemlock wasn't sure she was ready to let go of what they'd had.