Stavanger Bay she brought the sugar and the mint

The tune of the song erased the lingering tendrils of discomfort that always gripped her while he struggled to speak. Ears twitching in wild joy at his parroting, Doe let her tongue loll out for a moment in a wolfish smile before explaining. "It's for big bad wolves who won't take their medicine. My mother used to mix it when any of us got sick - the herbs that heal us can be bitter, but mint julep is good and sweet," she said to the pale wolf, making her way toward the narrow opening that she'd begun to dig into a proper den. The entrance was small enough that no one but Riptide would be able to follow her quickly, and while she wished that she could keep out the disturbing witch as well, she could fit through a smaller crevice. It would have to do.

She fetched what she needed from her stores - lemongrass, mostly, but also the peels of a few riper, less ravaged plums that she'd eaten a little earlier - and squeezed back out into the open, heading back to where she'd left the mint and sweet flowers that marked where they'd buried the plums. Doe spat out her burden, licking her chops appreciatively at the lingering taste of the lemongrass. "You had a concave bit of wood the other day, didn't you?" she asked of her companion, recalling that he'd held something fitting the discription when Skellige had told her about the blessing of his homelands. "We soak these in fresh water - the lemongras and mint need to be chewed a bit to open them up - and when the water is red, it's ready."

It was not much of a lesson - she'd learned it when she was just a pup. "No one's sick right now, but it's always good to have on-hand," she said, peering over at Szymon to see what - if anything - he thought of the lesson. "Especially since it's common to have it at weddings and other celebrations, where I come from."