Herbalists' Cache you don't have to be a ghost, you are flesh and blood

While her paws itched and yearned to tread upon Moonspear's paths once more, Lyra knew the journey back to their mountain would be slow going. Alya's leg was still recovering and needed frequent rest as they travelled, although it had mostly healed up nicely. While she had been told there were two healers at Morningside, Lyra had possessively taken over their duties, giving her own examination of Alya's wound. Thankfully for them, the wolves of the maple forest hadn't damaged her dear sister's leg further.

A curious smelling woodland had pulled Lyra in its direction, and Hydra allowed her the momentary distraction. The near overwhelming scent of herbs caused a shiver of excitement to race down her spine, and the Ostrega eagerly pushed ahead into the forest. She cursed the fact that this place was so far from Moonspear; it was a veritable treasure trove!

Her feverish sniffing of every tree and flower paused as she picked up another scent — one of blood instead of plant. She looked up, noting the amicable wave of Hydra's tail before idly following her gaze. A lone figure stood out against the backdrop of earthen colours, a man with a wintery coat and broad stature. As Hydra gave chuff of greeting, Lyra assumed this was the one she had told her about; the stranger who had offered help in finding their sister. She echoed Hydra's stance as they drew towards him with an interested twitch of an ear.