Herbalists' Cache i work so much, can't be reminded

The caribou are beginning to move towards daytime feeding grounds when Nagruk spots a trail distinctly canine amidst their paths. A twitch of her nose reveals the familiar, biting scent of Blackfell, but fainter and masked beneath the perfume of a woman.

She tracks it further to where the snow begins to scuff from the drag of paws and soon spots a blot of dark against the winter landscape. Her beath puffs, debating whether to approach but it is curiosity that eventually wins. "Woman of Blackfell?" There is no greeting, little concern for the woman's wellbeing as she calls out from behind. Only the desire to untangle a connection.