Bramblepoint circinus

though they often flew by the cover of moon, qiao had taken tonight to rest and restock her thinning wares. she left the boys under stormchaser’s watch, striking out into bramblepoint. 

she stuffed her ragged deerskin with tendrils of fiddleheads and the wilting leaves of gaultheria. her eye looked for any steeping plant she could, favoring their sedative abilities for the growing pups. 

it was the breathing of another that drew qiao in. she paused from foraging and scented the air, needle nose pointing to the sleeping child in the bush. 

the crone set aside her satchel none-too-softly, attempting to rouse the child without contact.