Honeyed Pasture I Can Go the Distance

The nod released the woman to go about the aforementioned task, getting to her feet at a speed that was less likely to startle the travel-worn woman, paws carrying her a few steps backwards and away. She would turn then, going to seek the little herb she had spoken of. Keres' knowledge of the medical world was stunted, sheltered at best. This little trick was one she had picked up from a healer friend of her late-husband and was likely the extent of anything remedial such as this. 

It would be some time before she returned, the dark night that the writer can't remember if they stated it was making it difficult to find the bloom. Soon enough, though, the silvered Ostrega made her way back, carrying several of them in a delicate grip of toothy jaws. The less distance between them, the slower she moved, the language of her body cautiously neutral and non-threatening. 

 Setting them near enough for the mahogany female to reach, Keres would wait a beat before putting that distance between them again. Would you like help? The question was gentle, not pitying but caring, concerned even. That they did not know each other past this meeting was irrelevant, more so when the woman could see the suffering that plagued her.

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