Swiftcurrent Creek In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas;

@Arlette

 
The chill of the late autumn air bit at Morwenna’s fur as she moved carefully along Swiftcurrent Creek’s banks, her keen eyes trained on the earth for any sign of herbs. A familiar, earthy scent drifted from a patch of green sheltered by stone. Feverfew, she noted. Her jaw parted slightly as she bit down gently, careful to preserve its delicate leaves, and added it to the small bundle already clasped between her teeth.

This place had become her haven—a space that asked nothing of her other than to keep moving forward, even when that felt impossible. The Creek’s steady flow had a way of easing her thoughts, of drowning out the past as she worked. She’d made it her task to gather these herbs for her new pack, preparing stores for the harsher months ahead. Winter was unforgiving, she knew that well, and the effort felt almost soothing, like tending to an old wound that could never quite heal.

Stepping carefully over the stones, Morwenna continued her search, her gaze sharp and steady.