Blacktail Deer Plateau but I still think she's a queen

Grayday huffed in thought, trying to remember whether or not he did. One memory-scent stuck out to him, but he couldn't really be sure if that was right. "It's got frilly-looking leaves, right?" he asked, trying to match a picture to the scent. "Long stalks?"

He scrabbled a paw at his chin, suddenly overcome by the discomfort. He'd been trying not to scratch, but, "It itches," he muttered, thoroughly unimpressed by the whole ordeal. "I think there's some by the creek. I'll be back in a second."

Grayday trotted off to find the chervil roots, grimacing at the increased awarness of his wound. It was like hearing that it was infected made it ten times more uncomfortable, but the male knew it had to be all in his head. Luckily, he found what he needed quickly enough and dug up the roots with haste. After rinsing them and giving his chin a quick wash in the river, the male returned to Pema, presenting his findings to her. "This it?" he asked.