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

The woman had offered her a friendly smile and a wag of the tail before returning diligently to her collection, which had made Aquene feel comfortable enough to approach. Perhaps she could be of some assistance. She was just stocking up. Some of the tension and worry faded from her expression and she smiled softly and nodded. “Born and raised. My mother was a healer… in my birth pack, women were trained to heal.” Not all women became healers, some were better off as fighters, but they did all learn at least the basics, and she had taken quite a liking to it.
 
The question came and she hummed. “Yes, it can, but I personally prefer yarrow or prairie crocus if you’re looking to fight an infection, or more of, an infected wound. I've only ever used horsetail for infections that aren't associated with an injury.” It was her own opinion, and she recognized that the woman might have a varying opinion, she clearly knew what she was talking about. Aquene had never been one to shy away from sharing her own medical opinion, not with how thoroughly she had been raised and trained. “I’m new to the area, so I’m not sure if either of those grow in abundance here, though.” There were certain regional differences that she knew she had to account for.