Herbalists' Cache young punks, get off my lawn

Before he left the Keep this time, Tambourine made sure to let Stark know he was going out for the day but intended to return by nightfall. He didn't plan to venture far, he just wanted to scratch the subtle itch in his paws. It was the perfect day for a bit of traipsing, the sky blue and the air unseasonably balmy. As he departed from the willow wood, he headed east toward a spot of green in the distance. The approaching winter had leeched most of the color out of the world, so naturally this burst of it drew his eye.

Tambourine drew in a long breath of fresh, piney scents when he closed in on the coniferous forest. His silvery blue eyes dropped to the forest floor, which was largely carpeted in needles but also hosted a lot of interesting undergrowth. He intended to explore the brushwood but when a cold breeze soughed through the woodland and carried the scent of a wolf to him, the boy lifted his head and scanned his surroundings.

He spotted her quickly, a smudge of auburn against the darker backdrop of the forest. "Hey!" Tambourine called out to the stranger, taking a single step in her direction. She looked as if she had just been running, judging by the slight billowing of her flanks. "Are you all right?" he wondered with an endearing cant of his head.