Hideaway Strath shaking the wings of their terrible youths

Golden eyes slid shut and a small groan of pleasure far more relaxing then any he made while rolling escaped him as her teeth nudged and parted the ruff of his chin and neck. He could feel an endorphin release in his temples that made him almost swoon at the touch and smell of her.

All to soon she drew, back before he could return the gesture and though he wanted more then anything in the world at this moment to slide his teeth through her delicate strands in gentle nibbles, because she moved away, he held back. He had made a promise to himself he would never push her, never touch her without permission.
She had once spoken of Master’s which meant she had once been a slave and though he did not know her story, what he knew is when one used the term Master that it usually meant the ‘Master’ only saw other’s as belongings and treated them as such.
In the hot springs when he had touched her, he had been memorized by the scars on her body had touched each one, at the time he had admired those scars. Until late one night when he remembered her using the term Master, it had turned his blood cold. Having someone touch this pale angel in anyway but admiration for her soul, for her blood, for her body, pained him in such away he had never felt before. That was a long night and try as he might, he had looked for her and had not found her.  A tracker he was not.

However he was not sorry that he had missed her, for he might had done or said something he’d have regretted. After more nights of thinking about their encounter, only gave him resolve. She had scars, she survived and she was stronger for it. She was a goddess in her own right, born anew, a precious being that he would cherish in any way she’d allow.

Her words graced his ears, he was concerned by his own reaction to another man’s name on her lips, He’d put a pin in that thought for later because as she continued to speak she got his curiosity piqued and a smile graced his features she had come to him for help over others, pride bloomed in his chest

The large white brute rolled onto his tummy exposing a white back with tuft's of moss and twigs here and there, not that he paid them any mind, Vein was far from a vane wolf by any means. His voice rumbled deep and rich and his passion for anything healing came through “Tea’s to promote sleep are far better then taking herbs to force sleep, I have both in my caches,”

He paused then worried about the implications of forcing anyone “Forcing sleep on a critically injured patient is sometimes necessary. And not something I would do without permission or lightly. Currently I do not have enough Poppy or Humulus Hops, I have to cultivate those as they are not native to here to my knowledge.”

He remained reposed upon the ground and shifted his back legs to the side hoping she’d take the unspoken invitation to lay in this amazing sunbeam with him, though he didn’t get his hopes up to far, if this Patroclus was on his way. He thought he'd heard movement not to far off so he’d continue while longing to running his nares through her silken ruff.

“There are a few Tea’s I can make with my limited stock and the hot springs water. I will be planting a far bit of my cache very soon in order to boost my stock, however Once summer comes about I’ll have far more herbs at paw to make much more varied teas. There are tea’s I can make to alleviate the common aliments caused by feminine heat cycle, That is why I first learned about tea’s, Chamomile is good for that since it helps with sleep and with stomach pains”

He stretched his long front legs forward and dipped his nails into the soil before he continued
"But if you are just looking for sleep, and while Chamomile ‘is’ good, Valerian is better.  I brought Valerian with me in my travels, Valerian root tea is a good tea to both reduce anxiety and promote sleep. Though there is a fine balance with that tea, you’d have to drink it before it sits to long and gets to strong or it might have sedative effects. I would remove the roots before it got to strong so that you could drink it at your leisure, I have specially prepared Owl Skulls to hold the tea”

His owl skull ‘mugs’ had a layer of amber along the inside, blocking the eye holes and smoothing the inside into a bowl, he had prepared these and a few other tools on the outskirts of a forest fire when he had last collected the charcoal that he was now running critically low on.  He had also burned off a fair bit of his pelt during that excursion too, but it had eventually grown back, good thing he was not vane.