Honeyed Pasture Coming Home

Florence has not gone too far south along the coast, as far as it took to reach Meteora only for them to turn around, so what the weather is like is beyond her. It had been the warmer months, and miserable at times with her thick coat, but Florence is more than thankful to have the cold weather again. Still, it does not compare, but apparently the wolf before her isn’t able to handle it. If she has never experienced the weather before, she can’t help but wonder how far the wolf has traveled to get here.

When she lifts her paws to show the bleeding—and a word she doesn’t understand—her ears fall back against her head and she offers a soft, empathetic whine. Her jaw clenches, grinding as she recalls what little she knows in the art of healing. The necessary information during battle but she is far from calling herself a healer. “I don’t know this area well,” she confirms the previous shake of the head. Florence looks over her shoulder to see if one of her own companions is nearby but when her vision is clear, she returns her attention. “But there is a mountain a little ways from here, there may be a cave. Can you walk okay?”