Swiftcurrent Creek But I'm gonna make it through

Morwenna settled beside Etienne, paws brushing through the dark earth as she carefully widened the den alongside him. There was a quiet rhythm to their work, the scrape of claws and the soft patter of soil. For a moment, she watched him with an appreciative gleam, seeing how his motions were mindful and steady, traits that suited him well.

Herbs, she murmured, letting the word drift into the air between them. You know them, don’t you, Eti? How to find them, what they do. Her gaze lingered on his face, curiosity mingling with respect. I would learn, if you’d teach me. There is so much I don’t know.

As they worked, she stole glances, waiting for the stories that might slip from his mouth like waves over stones, of where he’d learned this skill, of the places that might still call to him. In her own way, she hoped to understand what he saw in the world around them—an understanding that seemed more profound, more attuned to life’s quiet, healing secrets.