Herbalists' Cache Speak your mind, I'm sure it won't matter in the end.

though wintersbane knows he needs to keep prowling the regions of the teekons where there is heavy foot traffic for recruitment purposes — something that the taiga generally appeared to be lacking which had been half of it's appeal in the first place — he sticks to the western reaches of the taiga region for now. dividing his time between tending to what current exists as the vartija — a small gathering of like-minded wolves and a territory that needs borders marked and caches built and filled and tunnels explored and recruitment. unbelievably, the latter is much more tiring than any of the other mentioned things and wintersbane savors his break before he'll set off west again on a second recruitment drive.

as he explores the unassuming forest known as herbalists' cache he crosses the path of a familiar scent. elixir. still bearing that intoxicating scent of the season and without consciously making the decision to follow it his legs take him down the same path she follows, weaving through the trees until he finds her just in time to hear her heavy sigh that accompanied her recline onto her haunches.

a penny for your thoughts? wintersbane rasps the invitation with a quirk of his lips and a lazy flicker of his ear as he shrugs through the underbrush to join her in the small clearing.