Neverwinter Forest your heart that was so eager

Winter was fast approaching, and Haedwig was no idiot when it came to preparing for it. At her age she wasn't much for hunting anymore, while other elders were luckier she had been left with aching bones that gave her ten times the trouble the moment a hint of cold weather passed her; that meant scavenging as often as her body would allow, eating as much as her stomach manage, and being absolutely vicious. But, her nutrition was not the only thing to worry about.

Unlike other animals, wolves did not have the joy of their reproductive systems ceasing operations once everything else began to shut down. Haedwig had learned this at a young age, witnessing women who were years older than she was now still trying to put out for their husbands - despite barely clinging to life themselves. She had played the baby game once, and after that she knew damn well that she wasn't going to do it again. Instead, she spent years on years figuring out the best ways to supress it; herbs to refocus her or make her too ill to think, the best things to cover her scent, and how much to gather for the isolation she would send herself into. The latter had been of extreme importance during her time in a pack. Men were mindless pigs, and instinct was a bitch, with how much effort it put her out for she had considered if it may be better to give in to nature - but at her age? Fuck no! She wasn't going to risk death for pups she had no interest in raising.

It was this heavy sentiment that sent her on a search for the usual herbal remedies. They weren't perfect, but they were better than rawdogging it to be blunt. Her nose snuffled away at the mossy forest floor like a hungry boar, searching for signs of the familiar herbs. Maybe it was early, but this would be her first cold season in years where she was completely on her own. There was nobody to help should she not be prepared in time.

He had been told in no uncertain terms that there was a curse on this forest, and that he was not to settle it under any circumstance, now or in the future. He'd been told, even, to warn his future sons and daughters not to settle here, lest they be taken by the woods or the lake or just disappear entirely.

Katmai felt it was as good a time as any to face his fears of deep, dark woods.

The young male roved deeper, nose twitching and ears swiveling as he investigated the woodlands. He knew that the aunt of his cousins had died here in the lake — though he was not yet sure where the lake was. And he knew that their other aunt had dwelled here until the day that no one could find her, and Katmai thought he could feel the ghosts of them watching as he padded deeper still into the woods.

Snuffled reached his sensitive ears, eventually. He hesitated where he was, trying to draw information from the still and heavy air.

"Hello?" he called into the trees, peering uncertainly through the gloom. He thought he saw something pale and ghastly up ahead, almost glowing in the darkness.

Her search was broken for the moment when a young voice called out. Her head lifting to search for the source, she spotted the dark silhouette beneath the trees.

Whaddya want? She responded. Haedwig had to look like a real monster in this light; hunched yet broad of shoulder, poor grooming, with small features that had lost their charm as she aged. A real, ancient, scraggly witch.

Moss lingering on her wet nose, Haedwig couldn't help her sneeze. She wasn't too happy about the visitor for they gave her reason to be wary. Her nose wasn't as strong as it used to be, making it difficult to know if others may be lingering nearby.

Katmai padded closer, compelled by the voice despite its gruffness. He was wary for reasons that went far back into his childhood — stories of fae creatures disguised as wolves still haunted him. He would not know if this was one of them until he saw for himself that she left footprints in her wake.

"To hear another's voice," he admitted to her. "They say these woods are cursed — when I heard you, I was afraid."

Until he knew for certain she was one of his kind, he would not thank her, and he would not tell her his name.

"I can leave if I am disturbing you," he told her, though despite his wariness, he was as curious as ever about a stranger.

Haedwig attempted to catch the young one's scent in vain, unable to pick up anything of much use from this distance.

How good is your nose, boy? She inquired, leaning her head forward with squinted eyes. If it's half decent, you can stay. I need help. Haedwig had learned when her scent first began to fail her that pulling a younger wolf into her work wasn't such a bad idea. She knew the individual reek of each plant by heart, and describing it to a working nose always went faster than using her own.

She supposed it was fitting that she was in a cursed wood. For now, she wouldn't use any of her usual teasing about being a baby-eating witch.

He was wary of the way they both spoke, and measured his words carefully before answering:

"I can't stay long, but I'll help for a little while."

It wasn't a perfect dodge when a life of servitude might be on the line, but far be it from him to be rude to an old lady, or to refuse her any help. He padded closer with his tail wagging low, broadcasting his friendliness and (conditional) submission.

"What are we looking for?" he asked her, stealing glances at her paws as he drew near. "I daresay my nose is decent enough. It's in my blood."

Up close, the woman was a real horror. Katmai was fascinated rather than put off, but he still tried not to stare.

My legs can't stay upright for much longer, a little while is fine.

He was strange, looking at her paws like they held a secret as he drew near, but Haedwig did appreciate his show of submission.

Do you know what thyme smells like? She asked, raising a brow. Even someone so young must have caught of whiff of the plant at some point, given it was so outrageously strong. I know this forest has clearings, so I hope to find it there. I'll let you keep some. Where there was one thyme plant, there was always many many more. They spread like wildfire.

If Katmai were really pressed to think of herbs that might be used for dark magic, he might have come up with mugwort or hellabore or devil's bell — but an herb that sounded like time was uniquely suspicious in its own way... even if Katmai had never noticed anything off or mysterious about the plants.

"I know it," he replied, lifting his nose into the air to take a breath. Nothing came to him except more still forest air, but he began leading the way toward the nearest pocket of light.

"That's kind of you," he said when she offered to let him keep some — but he rather thought he oughtn't take anything from this forest — even if the paw prints he new spied meant he should be safe to accept things from the stranger.

"I'm Kat, by the way," he said, his voice low so as not to let any passing spirits overhear. "What are you called?"

He knew the smell, which made things far easier for her. Haedwig. She responded, her nose twitching as she attempted to catch the smells of what they passed by.

So, She eyed the younger wolf, Kat, who still reeked of nerves. Why do you think these woods are cursed?

Haedwig was in the mood for a good story, or a good laugh. Maybe a chance to give the kid a scare once they found her thyme.

Katmai ruminated on the question as they picked their way through the woods. They were no less ominous with Haedwig to accompany him, but the longer he lingered, the less malignant they seemed. More just... Sad.

"Wolves die here in strange ways," he said to her, his voice still low. "Or they disappear. Wolves who try to settle here. It has been women of my uncle's pack."

He did not know the greater history of missing or dead daughters of Moonglow — but what he'd heard of Neverwinter had cemented the idea in his mind. This was not a place for the living. Not for long, at least.

"He comes here to pray, sometimes," he told her. "To the lake — I've not yet seen it. I don't think I want to."

He could smell an assortment of herbs as they drew nearer to the clearing. It was only when they were upon it, however, that he realized it was a garden. Someone had tended to it, once, many moons ago, now. Katmai felt strange observing it.

"There is your thyme," he murmured, not wanting to break the hush with his usual speaking volume.

Haedwig listened with some level of care, and as such held her tongue. She was a woman who believed in the supernatural, certainly, but the idea of curses had always seemed to her a strange way to blame it for others shortcomings.

Well, I'm a witch. I think that makes me immune. Making a beeline for the thyme, she let out a cough.

She wouldn't say it directly, but Haedwig had hit a jackpot here. She had kept a garden like this many moons ago, in the old kingdom. It was surely buried with everything else now. I think I'll have to stay here until I've gathered everything I need, I don't know that I'll be able to find my way back. She admitted. Do you still want some thyme? It'll settle those nerves.

It was just a little chilling to realize he'd been in the company of a witch all this time — but his own grandmother was a witch of sorts, as well. He sensed no maleficence from the old woman, and felt secure enough for the moment. More secure, perhaps, if she thought herself immune to the restless spirits in this land.

"A little nerves won't hurt me," he said, pragmatically, casting one last, long look into the gloom before turning his attention back to the garden. "Besides — you might be immune, but I'm not. I won't take from here if I don't need it." And he was no healer, of course. He might take some as a gift for Kinusi... but he did not want to risk blighting her, either.

Katmai set to work pulling some obvious weeds from the garden, tending it with idle movements while Haedwig gathered what she needed.

"What will you use it for?" he asked her — only curious, not accusing.

Haedwig huffed a laugh at his response. Suit yourself, I won't put it to waste. Carefully, she picked the leaves she needed and hid them in her neck fur.

My yearly fight against nature, of course. Whether he would understand or not, Haedwig wasn't bothered. It wasn't her job to be teaching some poor kid about the suffering of women and how his parents got him here in one harsh swoop. I'll need much more than thyme, but it's a start.

She would cover the den with thyme for the calming effect - aromatherapy, wolf style. She would still need feverfew for well, the fever, wild garlic to cover her smell, poppy seeds to add to the effect of thyme and mess up any itch of lactation, and a cache to hold her over. If accidents were made,she would be on the hunt for far more dangerous remedies.

Katmai did not understand and assumed, erroneously, that Haedwig was speaking of the coming cold and scarcity of winter. He did not know exactly what thyme could help her with, but perhaps it was something only old ladies needed.

If he was meant to know, he thought she would likely have told him.

"Well, if you need a nose again, you know who to call," he replied, easily enough, and then jumped out of his skin when a distant howl reached his ears. His expression was slack for a long moment before he told her: "That's my uncle — a different one."

Had they been traveling together before The Incident? Katmai felt a little bad just from the tone the other man had taken. He lifted his head to give a contrite response, and then made no move to actually go and find the man.

"Are you traveling?" he asked her. "Or do you live nearby?"

She was grateful for the offer, but before Haedwig could offer her ultra rare 'thank you' a howl reached them. Instead, she said nothing for the moment while she watched Katmai deflate in front of her.

I lost my pack months ago, I'm more wandering than I am traveling. Glancing in the direction of the howl, Haedwig frowned. It sounds like you're in trouble, kid. And Haedwig wasn't interested in bringing any of that trouble to herself!

Katmai gave a swift shake of his head.

"He always sounds like that," he promised, though he did look back toward the call's origin, his expression thoughtful. "Kin has his grandmother's herding dog instinct. He likes to have eyes on his flock at all times."

Katmai just hadn't realized he was still one of the sheep. When had he last seen the other boy? His memories were fuzzy.

"I should go see what he wants," he allowed, "But I'm wandering, too. He can't 'get me in trouble' for that." Katmai offered Haedwig a smile and a wheel of his tail. "It was nice to meet you, Haedwig. Good luck with your herbs."