Swiftcurrent Creek witch hunt

Arric, would you mind holding Blossom? She was already moving to place her daughter at his side; he'd done it before, after all. Not for the first time, Reverie wondered at the change in herself. The sight of blood didn't send her spiraling the way it once had; instead she felt an eerie sort of calm settle over her, episodic in a different sort of way. It was preferable, because she could work around it.
But it was funny, how much she'd fought the idea that her future would be rooted in such things as motherhood and healing, the path of nurturers, only to end up here. Reverie mulled this in silence as she took the herbs over to Akavir and worked quietly on his wounds. She glanced up every so often to show that she was listening, but allowed the leaders to speak for now. Honestly, she didn't have a lot to add; she'd exhausted most of her usefulness with the suggestions she'd given.
And it was all a little overwhelming. Akavir meant to hunt the woman, with a group — no one had told Reverie directly of these intentions, and so she only came to the realization now. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. All of this was her fault — all of this violence. If she didn't have Blossom to tend to, Reverie would have left then. Not to run, not to abandon her pack, but to find the woman who was stalking her. Such a meeting would put an end to all this, one way or another, she felt. Reverie knew better than to say it, though. She knew what Akavir and Arric would think of that idea.