Golden Glade poison or weed

Aitana’s smirk widened at the shoulder bump, a flicker of amusement lighting her amber eyes.

She tilted her head toward Mictec, her voice carrying a softer note of sincerity now. “You’ve got a good eye, jefa.” The cold wind whipped around them, but Aitana barely noticed, her attention focused squarely on Mictec.

She paused, glancing back at the tree line, her gaze narrowing slightly as if scanning the horizon for something unseen. “Winter’s coming hard, though. We're going to need more than just hunters out here. Scouts. Guards. Maybe a few wolves who know their way around herbs—keeping everyone breathing is as important as keeping them fed.”