Silver Creek Dried herbs in the winter sun

Crappy phone post starter for Rosings woofs

A child in the background, a pale creature in the snow. She had always been good at that, blending in with her surroundings so it would seem she was never really there. A woman was to be seen, never heard unless spoken to first. She had learned this well from her father and then while being subservient to her brothers and even her much darker sister, she was a woman that could serve and not be a bother to her husband or any man within the ranks of her brother's pack.

 a gentle shiver seemed to danice along her cream coat as she moved to the rock she had placed a few herbs to dry out on. She found that in the winter, if she were to dry out the plants they would last longer and not rot. Sure she would have to use more to be potent but it was better than them going to waste because they began to wilt and grow things she would rather not touch.  A gentle coo came from her lips as she touched each herb with her nose, finding that the sun had done its job just as she had done hers. Now, to get these to her den without them cracking and breaking along the way. Where was that leaf she had found below the show, it was the perfect instrument for this job.

“Laid to rest, a bothered heart, so full of torment, so wracked with smart,” a familiar voice whisked across the morn’s shimmering veil. It was the song very few knew, and while Dawson had picked it up on his travels, the tune stuck with him, even if the meaning had not. It had a sort of romance to it, he mused, and while he mused, his usual melancholy seemed to wash away with the lyrics. “I’d never felt so torn apart, until she was taken from me...” The blonde caped ivory serpent swept into the presence of his sister, the one he hadn’t been searching for in the slightest, yet seemed to always cross when she wasn’t looking. Miraculous azures tickled over the svelte dame, and while he loved seeing a good woman do her work, he loved it even more when it was his own blood setting an example for the harem of women his brother had accumulated. Or rather summoned, as it seemed wherever his burly handsome sibling went, women flocked as starved pigeons would. 


He wasn’t surprised to see his sister dabbling with plants again- when men needed their healing, her capabilities were always on hand and perfect. Her timing, essential. Her manners and demeanor, pristine. Father was proud of his ideals, and he was proud of his children keeping the legacy going. He would remain proud should he had seen his smallest daughter working so diligently. As indeed, a woman should. 


“Good morning, sister,” the light greeting was average to most, loving and considerate almost, but here, it demanded a response.

And be damned her pretty heart, should he not get one.