Stone Circle Bobcaygeon

'Bark,'

The man nodded as he continued his pacing. He was a bit lost on which trees were which—their branches looking all the same to his old eyes, their leaves mixed in the same hue, and scent dulled, but with the direction pointed out by Oryx the patriarch was quick to figure it out. A long, spindly kind was growing along the bank, just as she had said, and with it's thin branches it was easy to deviate from the rest. "Ah, I see," he murmured.

Lifting a rather large paw, the Easthollian scraped gently across the bark, his nails itching the top and slicing thin strips of willow bark off where he collected them within his mouth. The bark had a rather bitter taste, stinging his tongue and making him clear his throat in discomfort. He was new to this, and while a younger might have a firm touch, the man's was rather shaky and he ended up making scraggily strips.

He wondered how much was enough, and with a glance back to the dark female he noticed that perhaps what he had collected was enough. Smiling, he made his way back to her, dropping the paw-full of medicine down before nosing it to her gently, his tongue lapping at his lips afterward in attempt to smear the taste off.

And then it occurred to him what he had just done; Greyback prayed the gods would not be angered by his actions of tampering with something unakin to their own powers, that perhaps they would see his good actions and thoughts and give mercy. He was just a man helping a packmate, not a witch. He twitched his ear, looking up at the sky around, attempting to see any disturbance in the sky that might signify their wrath. "I have never been one interested in magics... Is this something you practice often? "