First-aid, they say, and their lack of knowledge — and seeming general disinterest — rings the alarm bells inside Maleah's head. Masquerade, her head swivels over her shoulder, steps coming to a halt. do you really want to learn how to heal? Or is it some kinda obligation you feel? a genuine question, albeit a bit pointed; one eyebrow raises. If you really want to learn, I won't ask anything from you personally. I'm happy to help out beginners, but you shouldn't force yourself.
The mask-wearer implies they are more of a hunter with the offering of meat. Not that someone could not be both, but typically, from what Maleah knew, healers would pursue counseling or toxicology alongside it; perhaps become botanists. Healing is, like, a constant thing, y'know? There's always more to it than you think. It gets overwhelming. There's a reason not many stick with it. her head tilts in a thoughtful manner. What do you do at home? 

So they are a caregiver already — a sitter. They claim it not to be their true calling, but their duty — this, Maleah figured, was at least respectable. Alright, she says, plainly, offering a nod.
When it comes to the basics, she begins, a paw waved for emphasis. there's a handful of important most-purpose herbs. Poppy seeds, chamomile, nettle; first lines of defense, if you get what I mean. Poppy seeds are for pain relief, chamomile calms you, and nettle reduces irritation, if you're dealing with a wound or a fever. The seeds can counteract poison, she raises a brow, making sure the mask-wearer is following before she continues.
When you're dealing with kids, they get a lot of bumps and bruises, cuts and whatnot. Prone to colds, too, as I'm sure you're aware. For that, one paw raises to meet her chin. you wanna use cobwebs to stop bleeding, and bay leaves or marigold to fight infection. Poppy seeds for pain, nettle for swelling.
And then, she adds, with sickness, it can be several things. How you handle it depends on the severity, but kids, y'know, they get the sniffles. Lavender and honey, if you can find it; get 'em to eat it. It'll soothe their throat. Nettle, too.
She pauses, eyebrows creasing. Is there anything more specific you want to know? Believe me, I could talk about this stuff all day.

A lot of questions already. That was good, however — a knowing smile flits across her expression.
Cobwebs are simple enough, her head tilts to the ground. Slowly, she raises up on shadowstilt legs, weaving through thorny shrubs as she examines a nearby tree. A silkweb lies just between roots, and crawling along its edge is a little black spider. you just gotta pick up a leaf, or, like, a twig, she snuffles at the ground before landing on a little mauve oak leaf, nipping it between her incisors. an' wait fo' it to climb on. sure enough, the spider falls into the trap; she places the leaf down a yard away, arachnid attached, and weaves a chunk of the sticky web around a small stick. See? Honey's not so easy though. Usually, you gotta have somebody with you as a decoy to distract the bees. Oooor, if you're brave, you could find some rhododendron and try to lure 'em and poison 'em.
Still carrying her cobweb spoils — because it'd be stupid to waste such perfectly good material — she pads around the sea of spikes and rocks in search of a particular little green plant. Nettle grows beside streams and trails and stuff. Wooded areas. Solid green, pointy, and the leaves have little barb-y things. They get tall, too, so sometimes you might need help harvesting it. There should be some here... in a patch of soft brown soil near a pathway, there lies exactly what she's looking for — a small nettle bush, tiny white blooms bursting from between the jagged-edged leaves. like this. This here is nettle. See how it's got the, like, little stabby leaves? she points with an extended paw. That's how you know you've got yourself a nettle plant. They bloom in the spring and summer, and the seeds show up in the fall. They're all useful.
And then, the age-old question: when are pups no longer pups and more like teenagers? That depends on who you ask, to that, a breathy laugh. most people would probably say six to eight months. They grow, like, super fast though. Like little beanstalks.
Leaping up onto a nearby log, her legs tuck up into a sit. Moss and fungi eat away at the darkened wood, and she brushes a paw against it. I'm slowly learning how to identify this, too, a pointed look to the mask-wearer. fungi.

Well, all fungi technically are, she snarks, a wrinkle to the skin of her nose as she traces the tendrils with a darkling paw. it's just a matter of figuring out whether or not they'll cure you or kill you. But if you're smart, you won't learn the hard way.
She eases into a lay, then, keeping her chin held high as one paw neatly rests over the other. I've been thinking of pursuing toxicology alongside my work with healing. It's all kind of the same thing, isn't it? Knowing poison from medicine, she blows air from her nostrils. Chacal and Mireille have been gracious in allowing me to pursue my studies while I find my place here. Not that you asked or really particularly care, but, y'know. she gives a lift of her eyebrow; testing.
You said you're a sitter, right? We've got a ton of kids here. Maybe you could get some extra practice in.

Six! To that, her lips curl into a bow as a snicker comes from the back of her throat. Oh, that's rough, she waves a paw. we have... hm, let's see-- Mireille has four, Chacal has four, and there's a handful of yearlings. Same boat as you. her expression softens knowingly. I'm sure you've got your hands full with 'em, huh?
She does not move from her post atop the treebark, but her collection of cobweb is now toyed with using the tip of her nail. Tell you what, honey-lemon gaze flickers upward to meet the mask-wearer. we'll make this a habit. We'll meet here in the tangle. You bring us meat, and I'll teach you what I know. Deal?

An interesting sort, this one. Abandoned children; a weirdly strict sense of professionalism and aloofness wafting from them.
Maleah doesn't move as Masquerade darts off as soon as they'd presumed they were allowed. Not that she'd blame them — she herself had grown quite tired of all this talking.
I'll be here, she calls; but it's of no use. She could only hope they would have heard it echo from between the branches.
She chuffs, turning instead to better examine the tendrils of fungus before her. Here, she would remain for a good while, whether or not the mask-wearer decided to return.