The Heartwood Why does thou weep upon my grave

The inflection in her tone changed, and his ears perked forward, and his body took notice. Though the change was not obvious. For now it mostly his internal switch.

He was no fool, and he was far more in tune with others than he would admit. He had been the Queen's consort after all, but more than that, he had been a tool for many. Used many ways. He was used to it.

This little seer had a high place in his regard. Of why he could never answer, perhaps it was a safeness he felt in her little world. Of spirits and sacrifices. The happiest he had ever been, was when he was with his father no name, who had done much of the same things. Though not for spirits no.

He listened to the gentle purl of her voice, curling, weaving. He was ensnared. When she touched his shoulder, he gave a soft noise of a purr. He was a wolf of pleasurable pursuits, but he thought of her question.

Castor Oil plant, can kill if ingested. Pink and barby. Deep voice returned her gentle ascent, he kept his eyes lidded. Continuing his gaze around, but always returning to study her as he answered.

Jimson weed. small white. Unassuming.