The Heartwood eye for an eye, heart for a heart

They are—nice things, I think. Ways to show appreciation. He answered dumbly, having never had the question posed before, and now thinking his own question was an odd one for her; but maybe not, because she seemed to know much more about these plants and things. For once Mojag felt tongue-tied; like he didn't have enough words in his mind, or enough agency over his own tongue! As one who spoke avidly with strangers, it was something that struck him as different.

She explained—illness, cleansing; fortune, resilience—fertility. The thrum of each syllable felt loaded, and when the woman glanced at him, Mojag felt his face go warm again. She grasped the lavender, offering it to him. Any reason to be close—

Drawing in a delibrate breath, there was the strong floral note of lavender which could be off-putting; but he tasted other things there too, such as her own breath, and the warmth of her face so close to his own. Soothing the lavender might have been, but the woman—she was something else.

Murmuring to her, ...do you like it? The.. gift, as if he needed to clarify.

She had the brightest eyes.