Ravensblood Forest pius unus moonus bush

Ever since his arrival, the physician kept close to the shores for some source of familiarity -- even though his home was no longer. No temporary shelter was taken here, however, as the sandstone man was quick to nit-pick anything that didn't closely resemble his previous hearth. 

He could remember it like the back of his hand forever -- wide, rounded, and carved out from the earth like a mouth. Decorated with grass, soil and vines intertwined with the forest that sat next to their shores -- and inside was his workplace, his craftmanship. One corner; an organization of herbs and barks he'd experiment with a make into a variety of pastes -- and the other corner a layer of bedding that either held resting patients or elated children that had come to converse or show off their collection of seashells and trinkets.

There were days where he'd wonder how those village children had been faring. Whether they'd been eating properly and staying out of trouble as instructed. Did they wonder where he'd gone as well -- or was the same look of disdain planted on their face like their parents as he was cast out?

Pale paws left prints in the sand beneath Mateo that day, with nothing more to do than trail the beach and continue feeling homesick as he'd been doing all week, though something compelled those tired dark eyes to set his sights on the forest that day -- so off he went.

Into the forest in search of herbs to forage and keep his mind busy, but the sound of something splattering nearby was quick to catch the clay draped man's attention. A dark leather nose picked up the acidic scent of vomit nearby, and curiosity drew him closer to investigate.