Herbalists' Cache all places the same

The coquettish dance lured the isbjørn like a moth to a flame, and indeed, she glowed like embers in the afternoon light. The warm cream of her coat set against spring-green foliage was a pretty vision, and the flash of her white teeth a welcome thrill.

"That so," he said, swiveling said ear but failing to knock loose the fragrant herb. He did not particularly want to, but had he been so inclined, a single shake would have made quick work of it. Instead he laid flat on his belly and tipped his head to the side in invitation. "Will you help me get it off, then?" he asked her, his tone just the wrong side of innocent.

While his tone might be overlooked, his forepaws were splayed and ready to propel him and his hind legs were coiled to spring. He had no desire to hurt or overpower the woman, but he wasn't quite done rolling around on the ground. He thought a pretty, sweetly perfumed companion was the perfect addition.