Blackfeather Woods whispers through the trees

A smile danced across Cicero's face when Malice asked if it still had leaves. It did not really matter if it did, and truthfully, Cicero had not even looked up at the tree to admire its aesthetics; he had been focussed on something much more primal than that. Instead of answering her question straight up Cicero said, "The most important parts are still there." Malice was quick to catch up on him and she asked him where they were headed while he trotted lightly through the woods, his feet feeling almost as though he was floating.

Like usually, he did not answer right away, instead letting the question mull over in his mind. What was he doing? Right, looking for herbs. The grounds looked empty and he saw only a mushroom here and there that was unscathed, but none of the good kind; none of the kind he needed. "Looking for herbs. If there are none, Cicero can show some from his underground cache." Their quality would be poor, because burying herbs was not his first preference, but it turned out that it would pay him dividents now that all else was destroyed. He continued on and occasionally looked at Malice as he walked, hoping that either of them would find something before reaching his cache.