Sleepy Fox Hollow Steady drifting, you're slowly dancing

Instructed by the healer, Anselm set to work. He dabbed one paw in the caulking of honey, wincing as he spread it across his roughened muzzle. The aloe was more difficult; it left a stinging sensation along the fresh cuts of his face.

Etienne knew so much more about the world and plants than Anselm did. He wondered if he grew up with mentors, or if this was knowledge that came at the cost of hard experience.

The sage he left for last. Waddling it into a ball, Anselm's face scrunched as he chewed and swallowed. It left an acrid scent in his nose.

The silence that followed was the closest to gratitude Anselm would offer. Slinking back into the water, Anselm made sure to keep his nose above the stream.