Stavanger Bay Ever Consuming Fire

Thistle was not usually judgmental, so she chose to not judge the male Mordred. She did not know where he came from, she didn't need to know. He was here now and she was healing him. Rest seemed to be doing him the most good, she had only used minimal herbs, but it seemed to have worked. Perhaps he just needed someone to care for him. She enjoyed caring for others, it gave her a purpose. When there was no one to care for, she felt adrift in a sea of emotions and sadness and she felt out of place.

Thistle heard words and looked around the rabbit swinging limply to and fro. She dipped her muzzle and lay the rabbit at her feet, licking the remnants of blood from her plush fur and muzzle. Thank Mordred. She grew quiet then and studied him Your wounds are okay?