Whitewater Gorge Thorn bush

'smelled blood. The flowers you're picking have thorns or something?' He says and this prompts Envy to check her paws, indeed basted in the colour of life. ..Ah. Didn't realize! No thorns, but I've been walkin' a lot lately. She mutters, licking some of the blood from her cracked pads and smears the rest on the grass.

S'pose you could call this hunting. Takes a sharper mind, more skill than jus' chasing somethin'. She totes pridefully, if only because it made her feel better about her lackluster hunting skills.

What's it to you, stranger? You from somewhere around here? She chirps, flicking a tattered ear invitingly. Leaning back to sit casually, she'd trade the earlier prickly-ness for a far more relaxed demeanour. He sounded friendly and maybe a little curious, and he stayed on his side, so she was naturally inclined to offer him a crumb of trust. Either way, she too found herself getting curious, and that was a feeling she caved to more often than not.

Company was invigorating, and she could never forgive herself if she denied the opportunity to indulge. So she'd pause her little herb-hunt, and idly prod at the seer's sage beneath her feet.