Silvertip Mountain holding on to what i can't have

im laughing bc i was literally in the middle of making THIS POST FOR YOU when i got the tag

It is not so suffocating to stay with Phocion and the boy, to her relief. Her fears of losing her tentative grasp on freedom have, thus far, gone unfounded. She still wonders if this is not just another way of latching onto something, thus continuing her unhealthy tendency towards order and ritual instead of true freedom, but what is true freedom anyway? Is community more important than independence?

She has the time to ponder these things, at least, as she picks through summery flora for her slowly expanding herb cache. Once she is satisfied with the day's offerings she sets out to check on Cortland, bearing garlic, yarrow, rose and lavender clutched in a bundle between her narrow teeth. His healing has been steady, if worrying (and frankly she is just concerned for the boy, given his seeming tendency to get himself hurt). 

When she sees him on his feet she drops the herbs, issuing a startled "Cortland!" Delicate steps take her closer to him, observing critically the tremble to his legs, the determination in his face. "Don't push yourself," she advises, "how do you feel?"