Herbalists' Cache hanging on in quiet desperation

The proverbial wine had run out.

Aisling pushed her way through the thicket, newly blooming brush impeding every other step. Not that it was a bad thing—the fruits and berries offered by each of those branches were a blessing, a balm to her frantic mind.

She carried with her a beaver's skin, empty and hanging in a loose arc beneath her jaws. 

Soon, it would be full again. The poor shadow had subsisted on what she could find rotting and fermenting from their hosts, but it was still early in the season. The buzz was fading, and the desperation had set in.

Now, though, things were budding, growing. Every time she found a harvest, she would set the skin down, pluck the fruits and place them neatly down, then bundle them up again as she went along. Soon, she'd have enough for a cache. And after that. . .

She chuckled to herself, feeling her muscles twitch in anticipation. Soon, she'd have multiple caches—and she'd be happy again.

Odessia trailed behind the female who had some particularly strange behavior. Eating berries was something every wolf did—at least back home—in order to complement their diets, but why was this wolf carrying around the old ratty skin of some long-dead animal? Odessia could understand, to some degree, using it as nesting material for a whelping den, but this? She had never seen such odd actions in all her life. Granted, she was just a little over two years old, but surely she would have heard about something like this previously. Had her previous home really been that sheltered, or was something about this area just off?
Forfeiting her stealth, Odessia picked up her pace so she was within earshot of the black stranger. At least she looked relatively normal up close.
"Why are you carrying that nasty thing around?" she asked, looking pointedly at the very old, very tattered piece of skin.

Eventually, she became aware of a follower. She humored the presence for a while, until it spoke. She turned toward the female voice, smirking briefly at their query before setting down her "nasty" skin full of the gods' blessings.

I am gathering old fruit, Aisling explained—softly, patiently. This is the best way I know how to carry them along.

Was it nasty? No more gross than carrion, which she had feasted upon in desperation, nor afterbirth, which was a natural part of life. Her lips pursed and then shifted, trying to figure out the pale woman that stood before her.

Do your folk not gather fruit for festivities? she asked.

Odessia stared dumbly as the dark stranger explained. There was something strained about her expression that Odessia couldn't quite pinpoint. It made her uneasy, like there was some sickness hidden beneath the surface that would spill out at any moment. She took a step back.
Before she could ask why anybody would not just eat it on the spot, the stranger threw a question her way.
"No. That would be weird," she replied. The implication was obvious: this behavior was odd.
"We do not do 'festivities.' Why do you not just eat it on the spot?" she asked. "Fruit does not keep the same as meat stored in the ground."

I know, Aish replied patiently, giving the snaggle-toothed woman a half smile. Meat rots—but fruit ferments. This is what my family have taught me.

And when fruit fermented—

Did she really have to explain such a simple fact of life to this stranger?

I'm Aisling, she introduced herself, with a brief nod of her dark head. And you?

i write this as somebody who drank 5 beers last night, LOL.

Sounded like her family had a few screws loose. As far as Odessia knew, fruit became poison if left out too long. Maybe not a deadly poison, but it led to upset stomachs, dizziness, and headaches. Maybe Aisling was a masochist. Odessia wrinkled her nose at the thought of intentionally causing pain to her own self. All she ever wanted was to feel good and happy!
"I am Odessia," she replied.
From there, she was not really sure where to go. While Aisling seemed normal on the outside, Odessia did not think she was okay on the inside. There was nothing about her that made the white wolf want to keep talking to her, so her brain went to the most logical conclusion: peace out.
"Have fun with your... fruit," Odessia said, then turned to leave.