Duskfire Glacier all this rotting fruit with you

The medicine woman had not spoken with her colleague, who she was fast coming to consider as a friend and confidante, in several days. Seeing as the others were a bit...preoccupied, so to speak, with the spring and its season of heat and rut (which the tribal cur was relieved to find was not at all like the traditions of her homeland), Imaq thought that she might stop by the medicine den where Iana had set up her apothecary and see how the other willowish piebald fared.

Her seaglass gaze found the wren through the open threshold, noting the angry way she yanked at the pelt she was currently curing and wondering if perhaps she ought to return some other time. Hesitantly, she chirruped a wispy greeting, dipping her golden diadem as if to ask permission to enter and visit with her fellow Caregiver.