Bearclaw Valley roti

She was honest — often to a fault, according to her betters. Stryx had spent enough time on this earth walking on eggshells to be the perfect physician and was through with it. When she needed something she was up-front about it and usually that did the trick; the world worked better for her once she'd grown a stronger spine, and now she couldn't help herself.

No, she answered, watching as the young man investigated the water. I made a deal with Merrick. My word is my bond and I cannot break it. Stryx sounds a little bit grim as she explains this. She isn't bothered by the people she's thrown her lot in with; her exasperation is rooted far deeper than the present.

Without explaining herself further, Stryx began looking around at the work that had been done by the pair of them. Rotted bits of plant matter were piled in a soggy heap, while the good stuff remained intact on separate piles further along. It would take time to organize these back upon their shelves. The ruined pile could be buried somewhere nearby and if luck was on their side, something might grow from the mess that they could use.

I will dispose of this, she mentions with a nod towards the pile of rot, and began to remove it in chunks, either by grasping for the more solid pieces or by shoving, pulling with her forelimbs; it might leave a slick green path behind, but that would add to the ambience of the place.