Deepwood Weald For that with which you are.

It was only amusement that she offered in the form of a small chuckle. The dark man did not think on her patience, but she must have had a great deal of it. Even as they walked, Maiken offered him bits of wisdom. She explained how they might find rosemary and thyme. The little plants were described to him so that he could understand their importance.

Jörmungandr had been treated by healers. The Svartravn wolves had a few exceptional ones in their blood. If he knew more of her, the dark man might have considered Maiken to be one of them. She had mostly abandoned their beliefs so that she could chase the passion of a medic. It seemed a silly thing, to him. She could treat the wolves of dark fur and leave the pale ones. There were many wolves that suffered, anyway.

Is this the rosemary? he rumbled to her. Jörmungandr had fixed his wine-red eye on a round-leafed plant that had sprung up near the base of a juniper tree. Were it not for the scent of the juniper, the little plant might have made more of an aroma. While he waited for her to inspect it, the dark wolf considered their paths again.

I have not settled, yet. I do not wish to serve under a pale-furred leader. I will not submit to them. The one eye lifted to her features, resting impassively on her face. You should not, either. I could give you a place to heal. A Svartravn leader. A taste of home.