Herbalists' Cache just like you

for @Qupirruarjuit

the loamy perfume of pine and damp soil fills anoré's nostrils as she descends the hills. the snow is melting. there would be new growth soon.
her travels in the weeks prior provided the ex-matriarch the opportunity to see other lands. grassy plains and verdant thickets so unlike the icy, barren outcrops of winterhelm. it was a change she openly welcomed.
there, warriors were prized. their lives of more value than a mender's, whose hands were more often covered in dirt than blood. anoré was once drawn to clashing swords and gnashing teeth. then strategy. then something gentler.
a  smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she recognizes the faint shape of a delicate herb poking through the earth: yarrow, its feathery leaves already unfurling in the tender light of sun. a soft hum escapes her lips, a sound of satisfaction.
she pries the herb gently from the earth, careful not to damage the delicate roots.