redrum

"Exactly," Bazi agreed empathetically, rewarding her chubby son with a kiss. She could not imagine anything more boring than sorting stalks and leaves, but Swift seemed content to spend the majority of his days doing just that. By now, it was clear this behaviour was not a one-off - he did it with purpose and what looked like know-how, but she could not be sure of it. Bazi was only barely able to identify yarrow. 

"Well does he ever explain?" she pushed, frowning down at Whittier. "Does he say why he's doing it?" She didn't dare ask Swift directly, for fear that he might (correctly) interpret the questions as a sign that his mother was displeased. Bazi was not against having a healer in the pack, but not one that had acquired his skills through some kind of magical mystery telepathy mojo.