Deepwood Weald For that with which you are.

If she had garnered nothing from the sickening existence she had lived before, it was indeed that she had learned patience at her father's knees. She had learned when to wait, when to attack and when to let those around you implode upon themselves. She didn't like the dark aspects of such a thing as patience, but she understood them.

Maiken had not forsaken Svart, no. What she had done was find a place she could offer healing and learn more. And she still offered prayers to the dark raven, she still held her breath when ravens flew overhead. She minded them, respected them, and revered them. She was just not vocal in her prayers and her awe.

A soft call to her and she turned towards it, pressing near his larger leg to sniff. It probably didn't even feel more than a pinprick as different as their size differences were, this behemoth next to the runt of her litter mates and pack. She wrinkled her nose at the scent that colored the air and then smiled and gave a nod.

Yes. She slowly dug around half the plant, only taking enough to grow. Leaving the rest to grow here. She placed it gently in her rabbit skins, being sure to wrap soft, wet snow and ice around it.

An ear went back to him as he spoke and she gathered her herb. Though when she was done, she sat to her haunches and looked up at him with bright brown eyes, and listened a knit in her brow.

She dipped he muzzle and placed a tiny paw at the edge of it for a moment. Then she nodded.

You find a place to settle, and a place for me to take half of my plants to grow. Then I will join you. If you can promise me the freedom to hunt for herbs and hone my craft. I also can offer poisons and toxins, though i don't like them.