Larksong Grotto Warflower

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ayovi. her appearance forestalled anything else skorpa might say; she swept the child close and began to lavish motherly attentions upon the poor small body. even then his mate sought to bind the child to herself with milkish intent.

his brow grew thunderous. he did not wish to leave her, and so indisposed, and with a stranger! suppose this wounded fool had led the wild men of saatsine here? would their peace hold then? already another had broken it! but her word held a healer's command, and skorpa had learned to listen.

he fixed the suffering man with a frosted look of warning before he turned to heed.

aspa did not stay. for this was the northman grateful. he did not think a child's bedside was place proper for a sorceress. "come," he grunted to the other watching face, and the three winterblood set off to winding paths where the den lay in cottage-wait.

he did not want them close.

"wait." and proceeded to bundle all into caribou skin, attempting at very least to divide one herb from the next tincture. three bundles. four — he wisely plucked moss for each package, and bore them one by one down to where he expected aspa and ulfric to be left.

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