Herbalists' Cache tide bound

morwenna watched her daughter’s wonder like a flame catching kindling, her own eyes softening despite the lingering weight in her chest. other shore’s questions stirred up ghosts—yes—but they also stirred something else. a reason to keep walking.
no tree grows both, she murmured with a smile, voice low and rich like distant thunder, but perhaps we will find a place foolish enough to try.
her tail brushed again, a small affection, steadying them both in the stillness of the snow.
the sea is not always kind, she said after a moment, gaze fixed on the horizon as if it might part to reveal that brined edge, that place of salt and sky. but it holds truth. it carves stone into softness, devours what cannot yield. it is not a place of ease, but one of change. and survival.
she looked down at other shore then, truly looked—at the young strength in her bones, the glimmer of curiosity in her gaze.
perhaps that is why it calls to you. you are not made to stay buried in the mountains forever.
a pause.
when the snow melts, we will follow the rivers. her words were not promise, but prophecy. we will go find your tree.