Whitefish River We are receiving numerous reports that books have stopped working

She gave a quiet nod to Speedy’s words — both before she left and soon after when she returned, properties in maw. Seeds of poppy, water in the moss... “Thank you, Speedy. I would have administered ze same.” After a moment of quiet, she added onto her previous requirement: “If I am not present to be told if or when he is to be moved, then please tell Vercingetorix.” It'd occurred to her a little late that he should be included in on this, too. A parent could manage on their own, as she’d solemnly learnt; but it was better when a pair could be such together. “He should have as much say as I.”

And then Isilmë enquired of whatever it was Speedy had brought. A weak quiver of a smile touched the corners of her lips at her daughter’s interest: “Poppy seeds, sweetling. Take a few, and they beckon easement. Take a pawful, and they beckon sleep... or prolonged unconsciousness. So take care if you should ever administer them; ze affects upon waking are usually, only lethargy.”

Then, finally — finally — she turned to Dragomir, eyes both fond and hesitant. How to approach? What to say? Or do? Any words in mind died in her chords, so instead she wordlessly stepped his way and knelt to pluck the drenched wad of moss.
Whenever he’d taken the seeds, she would be there to hold it as near to his maw as she could; for the most comfortable angle his neck and head.