Whitebark Stream honey

she is sated with tales of gods as they head toward the den, one of which has her ears perk. "are you a god, then?" she queries, eyes a little wide. it sounded like a very important thing to be; she supposed the creek was lucky to have aphrodite in their ranks. 

the stepped into the den, and something shifted. at once, she feels comfortable, familiar; at the back of her mind, something stirs. aphrodite is still talking, and while much of her attention is focused on the healer, she grapples for the memory, the familiarity. brow furrows, but the moment passes. 

the girl steps forward, inhaling softly. juniper moves to inspect the piles, careful not to disturb them, again, something stirs, though the more she tries to grab at it, the faster the memory fades. "spirit?" she echoes, though her gaze remains on a pile of particularly fragrant greenery, with faded purple flowers at the tips of the stems. lavender. "what's spirits, 'ditey? what's this?"