Lost Creek Hollow a lonesome star in a bitter sky

He shifted as she drew nearer again, better preparing himself for the ordeal that was ahead. It was half an attempt to make her job easier, but also to try and make himself more comfortable. The former was easier to do than the latter, but he anticipated that his own body would not appreciate the shuffling of limbs and the resettling he made. In that time she had laid out for him a simple task, though he could not help but regard the bundle of dried and faded greens before him curiously for a few moments. He drew in the mismatched scent of them, snorting at her words but far from defiant.

Mordecai did as he was told, though he found the dryness that crept in his mouth following the gathering of such herbs to be unpleasant; the leaves and stringy strands of whatever else there was did not sate his desire to be rid of pain. His face expressed this, contorting sourly for a moment in spite of the pain that followed the reaction. He didn't chew them up for too long, instead taking the atypical manly approach to it by slamming them down and wolfishly scraping his tongue with his teeth.

"Awful," he told her, fighting the urge to let his features turn sour. "How do you even," he went on, but did not finish as though the tone would be enough flourish to get his point across. He had never thought to ask Blue Willow such things when she had instructed him once upon a time to do the same, but then again at least the herbs had been in season. For all he knew, they weren't even the same ones.