Swiftcurrent Creek But I'm gonna make it through

Morwenna paused a respectful distance away, watching the quiet rhythm of Etienne’s work. The hum in his throat was comforting, a soothing thread that eased the heaviness of the air around them. It felt right, being here—a small offering of warmth amid the gathering shadows of Swiftcurrent Creek.

For a moment, she observed his focus, taking in the way he moved with a steady, purposeful grace that marked the practiced care of a healer. There was a gentleness to him, something she sensed was rare in these lands and all the more valuable for it. She cleared her throat gently, a soft sound to announce herself.

Etienne, is it? she greeted with a warm, quiet tone, offering him a small, genuine smile. It looks like quite the task, setting up your space. Would you like any help?

She shifted her weight, ears tilting forward as she awaited his response, sincerity evident in her gaze. Morwenna understood how precious a healer's work could be—and she wanted him to know he didn't have to carry it alone, not if he didn’t want to.