Blackfoot Forest To that stranger's door

@Witchhazel 

What had started out as a sore throat and coughing had gone for the worse, because Wraen woke up morning with stuffy nose and with limited ability to smell anything. Which was a big drawback, because her trade was defined by the acuity to distinguish various scents and follow trails, and therefore it felt like she had lost a limb. 

Another unexpected thing that she lost sense of flavours too - it had not mattered much before anyway, but the fact that now meals tasted like "nothing" or simply "things"... was both confusing and annoying. Feeling annoyed by all of this, she left Sunspire for a longer scouting trip down in the valley, not wanting her bad mood to affect anyone else. 

By the evening she had returned yet again to the Blackfoot forest, where she had spent nights twice before. Tired and sniffling to push back the snot that was about to rund down her nasal passages and out of the nostrils she went in and sought for a place to rest.

she had taken to moving paralell to the mountains, and when the sun burned on their opposite side would she still and allow the image of their jagged peaks to burn into her gaze. she knew, somehow, that she must cross them, yet how she did not know. 

but such thoughts faded to the rear of her mind, when the subtle scent of sickness wafted from somewhere near, intertwined with wolfscent. the sylph paused in her step briefly, considering, before adjusting her path. the woman was found shortly thereafter; her trajectory cutting just behind the woman's own trial. remaining a short distance behind, head angled as to catch the woman in the fringes of her vision, she called out. "you are sick." soft, inquiring, testing the waters before she offered her assistance.

When the call reached Wraen's ears she had lifted her muzzle up and was in the process of deciding, whether she wanted the snot trickle towards her throat or it would be better to blow all the nasty oozing stuff outside. She was drawn from her contemplation and turned to look at the person, who had asked. Brow furrowed and expression annoyed a little. Under different circumstances she would have been more polite, now someone, who stated the obvious, and therefore meddled in her personal business, was sort of insulting.

"So what?" she barked back. "Who are you?"

she shrinks back and away, knowing her folly swiftly. apology grows and dies on her lips, and instead, she offers, carefully.  "I could help."  tongue flicks out to lick her lips, in her nervousness her gaze misses her intended mark, finding the woman's shoulder instead of carefully seeking out her head through the clearer patches of her vision. "I am Adra - I know herbs."  it is a strength she holds close to her heart, sometimes imagining the tiny blooms or spiked leaves she thinks she remembers.

The other shrank back as if Wraen had slapped her accross the face and this made her regret immediately that she had lost her temper and unleashed her anger upon an unsuspecting stranger. Who just wanted to help, by the way. Therefore, while the other explained herself in few words, Wraen counted to ten and took some deep breaths (as much as it is possible with congested nose) to calm herself down and act politely on the act two.

"A medic - what are the odds..." she replied with a mischievous smile. "And what do you suggest I should do?"

the woman seems to calm, and Witchhazel could hear easily the sickness in the thickness of breath she took. dull images, but more importantly, scent and the feeling of bristly stems and downy flowers. "coltsfoot - it will help your breathing." she offers, silent only a moment. "catmint, or..chickweed, for the sickness. I can find them."  she knows coltsfoot to grow in barren areas; perhaps the edge of the mountain range. the other two might be trickier, but with one or the other needed, she ought to be able to find at least one of them.

"Coltsfoot, chickweed and catmint? Are you sure that they are real plants?" because with all due respect to the stranger's knowledge and experience, to Wraen these names sounded as if someone had had nothing to do on a Saturday afternoon. Any day really, with nothing to do. 

"Do you mind, if I go with you?" she decided that it would be safer to join and see, what exactly the other found and brought her and whether the plants truly had any resemblence with their odd names. "I want to see the plants. Do not know much about myself."

She followed the aspiring healer's lead, found the plants and then returned home. Either because they had really worked or because all colds take more or less 7 days to get treated, Wraen got better.