Herbalists' Cache duskwood

Gluska had – by far – preferred to travel about at night. It had cut down on the many distractions that seemed to occur by the light of day, and allowed for the coywolf to focus on the things that needed tending. He had been working hard to gather enough herbs to keep a solid stock inside of his den. It was coming along so well, in fact, that the coywolf could scarcely leave without reeking of the plants that he had stuffed in there for the keeping. Should anything arise, he was starting to feel as though he would be prepared enough to endure it, and to save the skin of those around him.
 
The cache was quiet during the hours of the night, and so the skeletal figure had remained somewhat open about his comings and goings. It was strange, though, that the wind should carry a scent that was moderately familiar and yet unexplainable to the cadaverous creature. Pausing in his trek, the coywolf spun his skull around so that his vision could lock with the creature from the ranks of the sleeping dragons. Glu could recall having met this wolf when he had happened upon Gavriel.
 
“Ahhh, the mute,” he observed with a small nod of his head. There were no concerns about being uncouth with the male. Glu was relatively transparent about his oddities. “Care to tag along?”