Kildeer Rest how chance the roses there fade so fast?

Witchhazel. Pretty, Lily thought. She thought it was some sort of plant, but she wasn't exactly sure. At any rate, she didn't know the woman well enough to question the etymology, anyway. She could, however, question the answer that she gave next.

"Nowhere? That's. . .sad," Lily said after a brief pause. She meant no offense; apart from her short time wandering, Lily had always had some sort of a home to call her own. To have none was both completely alien and positively depressing, in her eyes.

Perhaps they were looking for a home.

"I live just north of here, near the woods," she explained, gesturing--still not knowing of the woman's handicap--toward the dark tree-line before looking back at Witchhazel. "We're very nice, and. . ." She trailed off, cutting her eyes toward the coyote for a wary moment. Would she be comfortable, living with it? "Well, you could. . .stay with us, if you liked."