Greatwater Lake the promise of spring

Though his name was butchered somewhat, the call did not fall to deaf ears. One ear turned in Sage's direction, whom he recognised as such as she neared. It was not hard to reach him; even if he had wanted to, Cicero could not have fled from her presence with the steep limp to his step. He imagined that he would likely have been able to roam again had he not effectively poisoned himself. But on the other hand, had he not, then he would not have found out this new and improved use for poison ivy. Some things were lost and some were won, often in the same breath, this taught him once again.

Of course she focussed instantly on his wounds. Even without the festering leg others would ask him about it continually, and he was tired of answering. "Cicero is looking for herbs," he said calmly, and he offered a smile. "Does Sage care to join?" He then focussed his gaze back to the plants at the water's edge. Cicero sniffed them, but could find nothing off. Not that that was proof — poison ivy showed that much — and he tore the plant from the soil anyway. Cicero swung his head to his right and flung the weed-like plant over his back, so that he could further study the plant at home.