Dawnlark Plains Tell me how you do it, how you do it

Her eyes gleamed a bit as the cloudy male trekked over in earnest, and to his words she gave a nod of her own. She began to answer him, but it took her a few heartbeats to realize that her voice was muffled by herbs — an unconscious, frequent habit she tended to realize of herself too late.

Eyes crescented like half-moons, flustered, before the herbalist promptly set her bundle down to properly reply: ”I am a healer, yes. Are you ailing?” It was her turn to to look over the male before her, tail quivering in hesitant worry.

Countless eyes had tracked the scarlet hurts upon her ivory, and where she once felt ashamed and particular, now she paid it no mind. Instead, her own gaze threaded about the Plains, ”We are only making our way up north — on a foraging trip,” she mused absently, more to herself than anything. ”I don’t suspect there is much to be found here... but who knows? Life hides in ze most unexpected places.”