Blackfeather Woods disregard the way i know we feel

As she dipped her head he nodded, accepting the display. He appreciated both that and her directness, the point of her being there made immediately, rather than danced around like some occasionally did; that he needed not demand a name, either, was also nice. “My name’s Kove,” he said, returning the gesture. He considered her skills then, each a good one and, truthfully, needed; with Potema gone and the silent woman looking after her children, the woods needed another that was capable of using its flora to their advantage. “Is there anything that you specialise in as a Medic?” he asked, interested. No matter her preferences, whether it be the care of children and mothers or the treatment of wounds, her skills would be valued—he was curious, is all.