Sun Mote Copse Miss Smilla Feeling for Snow

"I am glad to hear that," Wraen smiled at the little healer and wished that Firebirds had more man-power here to deter Towhee from another selfless, but absolutely reckless and life-threatening venture to save Asterism Grove from their sad fate. She sympathized with the injured leader, knew that she would feel angry and sad about the helplessness of the whole situation. But a gravely sick, even worse - dead leader, was of far less use than a somewhat patched up one and functioning. They would find a solution or - and when thinking about this, she had a glint of hope - the solution would find them. 

"I would have felt surprised, if it had not," she replied and then, drawn by the strong scent of cedar wood, she approached the tree and scanned the bark. There on one side the bark was injured either by a sharp shard of rock from the recent rock-slide or a deer that had sharpened it's antlers against the tree during the rut season. There a thick, yellowish sap had accumulated and the smell was so pungent that it blinded her olfactory centre the same way bright light dazzles one's eyes. "I have sometimes wondered," she turned to Sugar Glider. "If this sticky stuff that's so difficult to get out of fur, once there, could seal the wounds just as well," she mused. "Have you ever tried?"