Swiftcurrent Creek Good men are not like buses. There won't be another one 'round in ten minutes.

Ruenna caught the woman's scent on the wind. She looked up and smiled briefly, giving a friendly wag of her tail before turning back to her task. In her younger days, she may have been more wary of the approaching stranger, but age had mollified her anxious nature. Few wolves, if any, would dream of hurting a wisp of an old lady with a limp. 

Ruenna looked up again when the woman spoke to her. 

"Oh, um. Yes, I'm just stocking up." She gave the woman another brief smile, but this time her honey eyes remained trained on her company. "You know your herbs," she commented. Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Will you help me remember-- horsetail is a good styptic to stop bleeding, but will it also fight infection?" She tilted her head. It had been many months since she had performed the duties of a medic, and she was admittedly a little rusty.