Bramblepoint It comes in waves, the letting go

She let out a breathy laugh, but it had an undertone to it. Get in line. She had no desire to elaborate on that, but she had enough ghosts to keep her busy for a while. The most unfair bit of it was that most of them weren't even dead. Honestly? She'd welcome the change.

Neither, anymore. That response was flatly delivered. Then she relented, realizing she'd kind of led him to this. I just grow things now. She'd given a couple of fortunes but for entertainment only, as a way to connect with her younger siblings and distract herself from the way they'd made her feel.

She knew she had. She should have taken the opportunity, maybe attempted to build an old bridge, but she let it pass silently. She definitely wasn't ready to go back to those mountains, or answer questions about wolves they'd both known.

Fennec sniffed at the plant instead and grimaced slightly. It is. Here, let me. She began to carefully nose about the area, but from what she could tell, it was the only one left. This had to be where her garden had been, but when the thorns had been scattered, the plants had been left in the open. They were dead or torn up by now. Seems like the only one left. But it's better than nothing. She began to dig beneath the roots, carefully, preparing to pull it up and transport it home.