Redhawk Caldera the road to hell is paved with good intentions

Trick let out a snort, finding the tension in the air around the trio somewhat humorous in his own sick way. It was the reaction he had hoped for when he was younger - fear mixed with a breeze of uncertainty. It had never been the impression he made on wolves, given his small frame and his usually polished looks, and now he didn't want it anymore. He wanted to be part of them, simultaneously wanted to go, and he wanted to feel what some called magical; love. He confused even himself at this point.

Medicine? He questioned, his ears perking in a slight attempt to look interested. He wanted to be interested - plants were his thing. He had studied, learned and taught about them, and yet he could not get himself to care. He lifted his gaze to rest upon what Raven had found and he had to think a moment about what they were called again. They were seeds, as far as he could tell, crumbled into fine dust the color of something lighter than blood - more pleasant for the eyes. When it dawned on him what they were and what one could do with them, he felt a pain shoot through his chest. It made perfect sense they were here. ...From poppies, right? He asked, making sure he wasn't mistaken.