Bramblepoint when the cold wind is a'calling

As she listened to Gwyn, Arnarkla thought of the herbalist who had tended to the wounds the raptor had left. While her hide had been marred, her pride had been gutted. She cared little of how the woman treated her wounds; young Arnarkla merely pouted over the attention of the brusque herbalist and her nosy child. Even afterward, herbs were given little regard, let alone any reverence. 

At the offer to learn more than sage, she made a small shrug of a shoulder as she politely said: If it's not too much trouble.

Plants went over her head but if she managed to retain something that could be used down the road, she saw no harm in learning a thing or two.