Blackfoot Forest when night fell she placed hand upon breast; prayed for weeping days of rain

Now it was his turn to hum, as he considered her search. As a priest of the moon and stars, the earth and its greenery were by no means his area of expertise. Even conversations with the medic back home hadn't stuck with him. Nevertheless, he thought it was at least polite to try and help Poet find what she needed.

"I know daffodils," he said, smiling warmly. His voice was a little unsure, but he felt he could pick out the yellow from the jumble of colors and information in his mind. "Hyacinth is not familiar to me. Can you describe it, so I can help you look?"

Phocion lowered his muzzle to the ground for an instant, taking in the fresh scent of frost, that curious dry-wet smell of winter. "Bones and feathers, eh?" he remarked casually, meaning no offense by the statement. "I can look for those, too."