Redhawk Caldera On the mend.

Her explanation... Was satisfactory. Titmouse had to trust someone sometime, and who else could he trust more than his mom? He wasn't entirely sure who Wildfire was at this point, but he didn't feel inclined to ask, and just assumed it was another patient. Maybe someone they'd picked up while he had been - uh - away? The boy shifts a little bit so that he can loom over the plants, and dips his nose close so he can sniff at them; they're dry and only faintly aromatic, smelling more like leafy green grass than anything. Then he glances at her and solemnly says, Okay, he'll give it a shot. Just as they are? Or do I chew them up and spit 'em out?