Herbalists' Cache Witchy Things

@Hemlock thank you again for your patience <3 I'm trying to get back up to speed with posting, I should have my desk by some time this week!

She was here for one thing and one thing only, to gather necessary herbs for potions, medicine and spells and bring them back to swamp for future use. Her own little stash had begun to dwindle and it only meant one thing, it was time to come to her favorite little spot and begin the same old routine once again. A witch's job was never done after all, especially now that the herbs were all in bloom and ready for the picking.

Picking carefully what she needed and lumping them into a pile to be carried back once there were enough to be a mouthful - a small pile of herbs bulged out of the ground. She hated it here, though it was not quite as open as other places, it still didn't have that same familiarity of home... she felt exposed, a fish out of water to say the least. Too many individuals visited this place for the same reasons as she did and soon enough there should be some wolf to come and try to push her out of here as they normally did.

I didnt yet mention her having any bones or skull on, though I will if she has it in my next response.

 

This was quite a pleasant place, this forest. However, it was far smaller then the stretches of The Bracken, then again not any other forest he had come across so far had been bigger then the thorny forest he had since left behind. This place, however, like said was plesant - small, quaint, though its majorly uses was the abundance of herbs, flowers, mushroom, mosses...one such as himself, in the certain art, took great pleasure in the little things which this place had to offer though not all took interest towards enough to notice. He noticed and so he stayed. At least for a little while until he was able to muster the courage to try again at being a "pack wolf".

The property in which he searched for today was a fungi-a mushroom. Made to calm the nerves and vanquish your woes, at least for a little while. In the dimly lit forestry, nose to work, he would find what he is certain he is looking for. Though up ahead he finds it to be already plucked, nestled in a bundle at the paws of another woodland creature. 

He... He wasnt sure what kind of creature, really. For certain not a wolf, far too small. A coyote, perhaps? Though she didnt hold the same coating colors and patterns one normally might. Then again, he didnt look like a wolf either. He didnt know what he was truly even so figured he needed not label her, either. Still, he was intrigued and like he always did, was intent to hide and watch curiously.

He too was a strange beast. The man was also not fully quite a wolf, and so, maybe this made him better than those bulky fools who did mostly nothing but annoy and infuriate the witchy coyote. Quickly she closes the distance between them, claiming the bundle of herbs she had so meticulously gathered for herself, not him, and stared at the larger man with defiant bright eyes. Putting her body over the herbs in a defensive stance, though her teeth were not glittering in the sunlight in a snarly display, she was perhaps one wrong move away from going one step further beyond that, skipping the warning and going straight for a strike. 

For now, she was silent storm. Watching his moves. She would protect her herbs, her claim, for he had done nothing to help her gather them. 

Who thou? The smokey smooth vocals of the bog woman slither out as she speaks directly to the mud-blood of a canine. What is thy purpose near mine herbs? are thou seeking the company of a sorceress? She would forgive him if he was seeking the help of a witchdoctor rather than some thief who was looking for some easy remedies to whatever they were going to use the herbs for is successful in their thieving. 

Thief.

Decided I'm going to allow Locke to go inactive for now. So may wrap this up sooner then later.

A sorceress. A witch. He had stepped bac a stride or two when she came sudden closer to him, draping herself oover her collection of her herbs protectively. Now, as she calls herself a woman of magic, he dances back further, talking moving to tuck between his legs. It is fear of a witch that causes him to do so, but it is equal curiosity which causes him to stay. 

...A witch? He whispers, almost breathless. He lowers, crouching, a defensive display despite the fact of how much larger he is then she. Am... He would then start to question, wondering if she knew-if she could tell. Am I damned? She would know it, be certain of it. She would have smelt the evil in him.