Herbalists' Cache pussy wagon

Restlessness pervades her as irritation finds a home in the other. It was a simple question, really - Varinril could not grasp withholding such information for one's benefit, as wolves lived primarily off of meat, not fruit. Unless there was more than fruit to be had...

Those thoughts come to halt though when the pepper-furred yearling complies. It was a general direction but it was more than enough for her. Offering a muttered "thanks," she departs for the prized tree, tail held in a tense "U" shape.

It does not take long to come upon it, as the scent itself gives its location away. What with how easy it was to determine, Varinril huffed. She had tried to be pleasant but she was left feeling rejected. As she scans for a suitable fruit - preferably one that didn't have any insects on or in it - she lets the negative thoughts slip from her like smoke. Can't please everybody.

As soon as she finds the Perfect™ apple, she places it between her paws and begins grating at the flesh. At least she got something to eat out of whatever that interaction was.