Blackfoot Forest i. please be gentle,

"aya," the herbalist breathed. "i see." and she did. familial ties weren't enough, not when one's fate lay along a different road. 

she was just about to ask sandulf what his new home was like when he divulged without prompting. lótë listened in rapt attention, unabashedly curious. she'd had little interaction outside of moonglow -- save for the occasional ally pack. 

"it sounds," the dove faltered, coming up short with the correct word. "..vanessë." it was said with a small smile, hoping to portray that the foreign term was a compliment. 

"you heal?" the four-year then inquired curiously, well aware that she was asking too many questions but too intrigued to obey the ingrained voice of propriety.