Wapun Meadow i. a vagrant you shall become

Previously, Rhælla’s assurances had had their desired effect on the herbalist; she’d eased down, as she resumed with now after her own piece was lain out. The star-dusted she-wolf provided her with a bit of history, now, and Aure felt the old coax within her to chart and chart — mistaking the female before her to be a living patchwork of the heavens herself. She might as well be, for what she offered next.

Mentoring — what the Pionier hadn’t had in moons (save for the one time with Reina, and Verx, she supposes).

When the Doom had jilted her haven’s harmony, Aurëwen had been as old as her own children now were; too young to even begin the most basic stuff, but growing enough to retain those involuntary urges to tussle and to snap. But each session had been lackluster, stuttering. Unrefined and undefined — every hit she landed in the Teekons had only been luck.

Luck, help... and, possibly, the fact there might be more steel than porcelain within the she-wolf than she’s afraid of unveiling. But Aure looked to Rhælla, immeasurably humbled, and canted her head in thanks. “Yes,” a warbly little smile, “I would be honored.”