King Elk Forest i'm just taking a greyhound on the hudson river line

These last few days have been quiet for Cecily. Not a soul has crossed her path since her abrasive encounter with the rogue, giving her time to heal. She still has the scars to show for it; a jagged bite mark on her shoulder that twinges painfully whenever she moves, however, it is beginning to become bearable. Where she's able to find the materials needed for a poultice, she knows roughly, and here seemed a good place to start.

The former voyager winds her way between the gathering shadows, head low and tail high as she searches the forest floor. She is well practiced in the arts of healing and herbology, given her time as a ranger, which allows her to easily find and retrieve what is necessary. Her ears prick as movement ahead catches her attention and her tail lowers as her nostrils flare at the earthy scent of the stranger. It isn't long before she too emerges into the clearing and sets down her mouthful of cobwebs. "Good evening, Miss," she speaks in her low tones, settling down on her haunches to as she waits for the wolf to notice her presence.