Herbalists' Cache iii. whispering woods of wild and lurid dreams

@Sherigrim <3 , healing #1

Sunlight poured over budding branches to scatter in fragments as they reached the earth, coaxing forth tender growth with the promise of nourishment. Light dappled too over the pale tawn of the Sami's soft layers, head bowed as she hunched in examination. 

Careful, methodical movements plucked the tart blackberries from the thorny brambles they rested upon. There was not nearly enough of the fruit to bother gathering them to add to her growing bundle of supplies though they made for a tasty snack. A pink tongue flickered into sight, curling around her chops as it lapped the acrid juice staining her lips. 

Having broken her fast on the berries, satiating the rumbles of a protesting stomach, Elve set her cerulean sights upon the leaves of the blackberry bushes. They were known for soothing the stings and bites of insects - particularly bees - and the healer unfortunately found herself requiring the anti-inflammatory properties of the leaves. 

The sight of a hive nestled into the crevices of an abandoned rabbit warren had been too tantalizing for Elve to pass on. She had emerged victorious, her prize several honeycombs to add to her food stores, but not without several painful bee stings.

With a mouthful of leaves, the elven blonde turned and shrugged free of her caribou-fur wrap - nosing it open upon the needle-carpeted forest floor and gently unwinding the bundle of moss that dropped free of the shoulder fold. With an incline of her ivory snout, Elve placed the leaves gingerly upon the worn hide and allowed her ocean eyes to drift over the meager collection of possessions in survey. 

A stranger would likely notice the Sami's medicine bag upon initial glance - an otter which's throat had been slit and its entrails removed via this opening. The bones of its feet and head remained - hard little lumps beneath the folds of loose skin - but its skull had long ago flattened so that it formed a cover flap of sorts. 

Without opening the pharmaceutical bag Elve knew it contained two different bundles - both wrapped in small rabbit furs. One held a plethora of medicinal supplies, the other the sum of her efforts to sustain herself - traveling cakes made of fat, dried fruit and finely ground meat, a few strips of dried fish and caribou, some salt and solidified syrup from the ruins of Raikseiû's caves alongside some fresh produce she had gathered in Teekon. Perhaps she should not have taken food from the people after being cursed - she was still uncertain whether it might have angered the spirits - but she had reasoned that she had assisted in storing the food for winter which entitled her to a portion.

At the bottom of the bag hid a few trinkets tucked from sight - the small stick upon which she carved and counted the phases of Lumi, the moon, and the gifts of her Totem, the caribou. She possessed only a handful of such favors from the Spirit of the Caribou but each was dear to her heart and held great significance.

A chunk of red ochre to symbolize her adoption into the clan, the claw of a lynx which had revealed her Totem's desire for Elve to master hunting, a piece of golden amber that reassured her it was alright to love Laisse as the daughter of her heart and it would not offend the spirit of the girl's birth mother, a chunk of clear quartz that promised she would survive the curse of death. 

That was it. All she owned and needed to survive - alongside intelligence, courage, and resiliency. 

Elve tucked the leaves in with the rest of the medicine, feeling a familiar weight settle over her shoulders as she considered the future. Seeking to take her mind off the echoes of mistakes and the uncertanties of looking forward, the Sami opened the package of dried herbs to examine them for expiration.

He'd finished doing rounds, collecting more items around the Cache. It was plentiful and the most important things seemed to have sprouted early. The Shaman carried goosegrass and moss, woven into his fur by Myrto for safe keeping. It hung from his thick scruff the mouse tinkering and working to keep it secured as if she were tending to a nest. He wondered if, in light of the breeding season, she too would have children. It wouldn't be hard for her to sneak off and find one of her kind to make such an act possible. He certainly wouldn't mind being used as a nest for his Familiar; they worked as one.

Soon, he came across another being. This one seemed strange but a healer also. She had packs -- he'd heard of wolves from other lands use them to carry things great distances. She looked odd too. He admired her. Chuffing softly, he came closer, inspecting the skins as well as the stranger. His tail waved in greeting, an easy smile upon his countenance. "Hey here," he greeted, his eyes finding the marring upon her face. He felt a well of concern but he was outstanded by her face. Her ears. He'd never met anyone like her. He hoped she could speak and what she'd sound like -- strangers from far away places always intrigued him! 
"You..." He trailed off, not knowing how to word what he saw. What she looked to him. "Beautiful." He murmured quietly, his gaze caught on her as if he were looking at the stars.

He shook his head, chuckling nervously, his heart pounding hard enough to jump-start a nuclear power station. Then he notices the stings littering her face, concern etching into his gaze. The welts looked painful and seemed to litter her legs too, though he couldn't be sure without inspection. "Are you hurt?" He asked carefully. No such creature should be in pain. He racked his brain for what he needed: blackberry leaves, perhaps dock leaves if they weren't available.

Sapphire eyes lifted, the herbs forgotten momentarily, as she sensed another approaching. She felt eyes dance over her and as if conjured, the silhouette of a man cloaked in moonlight and smoke materialized before her. 

The Medicine Woman failed in her attempts to stifle a gasp, a soft indrawn breath that seemed deafening as the Faery drew closer.

He was not the first she had seen beyond the lands of Sapmi yet he was startling, he resembled no man Elve had laid her sights upon. The wolves of Sapmi were tall, broad - dark and powerful beasts designed for the unforgiving life of the tundra. The man too was graced with the build of a warrior but his steps fell reverently upon the earth, his eyes shone with unmasked warmth as his soft tread led him to halt a pace from the elf. 

Tattered ears flickered to half mast, capturing the kind words that struck against them with the gentle caress of a summer drizzle. Elve found herself unable to answer immediately, her eyes still locked enrapturingly upon his. 

Suddenly, a hot flash of shame washed over her. Had Hessía taught her nothing? Her adoptive mother would have been apalled to witness the young woman's manners. Remembering herself, Elve's head ducked demurely. Ocean eyes sought the silvery paws of the other, a flash of surprise making itself known as she compared the size difference to her own. A plume of buttermilk and cream drifted low to curl around her flank submissively though it still twitched faintly in welcome. 

Her lips parted to speak and offer some greeting but the words died in her throat as he spoke once more - whispered tones of unabashed admiration. Despite the ingrained training, the healer's eyes returned to his in surprise. 

"I..." She began, the rasped whisper fading into silence as he cleared his throat subconsciously. Cyan eyes darted away - unsure what she would even say. 

It was kind of him...but surely it was not true. Not Elve - breakable bird of an unholy union, the spawn of a mixed bloodline that should not have been. Tiny and exotic next to her lupine brethren, she had always been passed over as a candidate for marriage. 

"T'is woman greets you, Druid," Elve murmured at last in greeting, inclining her head in a respectful bow, once she had collected herself. The Sami could not have explained how she knew this title applied to Sherigrim but it rolled from her tongue as easily as her own language.

His question sent her gaze fleetingly towards the swollen lumps clustered about the ivory layers of her chest and scattered along the length of her forelegs. 

" 't's not so bad. I've got som' leaves," she gestured to the blackberry leaves piled neatly upon her wrap. 

It was then that the wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of some kind of rodent. Oddly, it seemed to come from within the strands of Sherigrim's pelt - even more peculiar, it smelt alive. 

Curiosity simmering beneath the collection of her serene features, Elve dared to take a few halting steps in the male's direction. Her blonde auds lowered and cerulean optics darted towards him occasionally, checking to see if she would be met with a blow for invading his space.

Hovering shyly at one tall shoulder, her pale muzzle extended to sniff gently at the mouse burrowing within his coat.

Elve's eyes flickered to his briefly, unable to withhold her smile of fascination. 

"Enchanting," she complimented softly, accidentally slipping into the tongue of Sapmi. 

His ears twitched, taking in every detail of the woman. Her shyness, embarrassment. Did he say something wrong? His lips parted to say something more but then she did. Haltingly, at first, but he let her gather herself.

Druid. His eyes lit with surprise at the word. How could she know? Did the stars speak to her too?

He swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say now. Was she a Shaman? One who looked to the future and dealt with medicines? His brows drew closer together, thinking. His cornflower gaze watched the svelte with interest. He wondered what Erianthe would make of such a woman. Her interests would be in her Magick -- Sheri had no doubts this beauty possessed some -- but Sheri wondered about her story. Where did she come from to get such a voice that sounded like soft Creek water in summer? 

So many questions swirled in his mind.

She drew closer. He let her, turning his nose to her. She carried many scents though most were faded. Lavender. And the earthy, sweet smell after the first warm rains that welcomed spring was set deep in her coat. He licked his lips, nervous. He immediately liked her more. 
Myrto squeaked, peering at the stranger from her fur nest. He turned his head further, catching the foreign words spoken by the woman. He could ask about that later.
"She his Myrto, my Familiar." He smiled softly, knowing how most people reacted to his companion. 
He'd have to visit Bee soon.

"Please, let me help you apply the leaves." He let the concern creep back into his gaze. He wanted to help her even if she claimed to be fine. He knew stings were painful.

Over-long, shredded ears - the product of her late husband's violence - twitched curiously as a name was supplied. 

"Myr'o," she whispered in imitation, the best reproduction of the name that Elve could make. Her accent sounded guttural and primitive in comparison to his rich, deep tones. Her voice was husky, raspy - exotic in that her words seemed clipped or half-swallowed. Sherigrim's words flowed together musically, so graceful that she sometimes had to reflect upon the river of conversation to decipher it. She felt heated embarrassment settle under her skin. Her command of the common tongue was not as extensive as some of the Sami and she felt clumsy next to the Faery. 

"Enc'ant-ing," she supplied, the word drawled slowly in her odd lilt. She was not certain it was a correct translation but the sweep of her muzzle as she pointed to the rodent clearly indicated what she referred to. 

Elve's ocean eyes slid to the leaves at his request, trying to determine if it was a ploy of some kind. One could never be too careful. Yet, she could find no dangers in his kindly offer. 

Unable to find any words, the healer merely turned and rummaged through her otter-skin medicine bag for the pile of leaves. 

Gesturing for Sherigrim to move closer, she placed the leaves between them and watched silently as he began to work - trying to ignore the sparks beneath her flesh as he occasionally brushed against her. 

"T'ank you," she whispered shyly as he worked, gaze directed carefully at her paws.

He gave her a smile that could melt marshmallows. Her voice was rasped, yes, but he could hear the accent that shined through it. It was soft and colourful like splatters of paint across a canvas. He liked it. 
The common tongue was not her native one, but she spoke it well -- at least well enough. 
"She is. She helps me a lot, we know each other very well." He didn't know how long a deer mouse lived for or if being his familiar changed that. He hoped it did -- he couldn't imagine living without her.

He moved to take the leaves, gently rubbing a paw on them to rub off the waxy cuticle and release the healing juices they held before placing them over the stings. His touch was soft and light, careful to not cause more pain.
When he'd finished, he looked to the sylph with a soft, admiring glint to his eye. He started to realise the nature of some of the historical injuries: the tatters ears, the scarred eye. Who could do such a thing? He decided not to ask.
"So what brings you here, traveler?"

His touch was light, deft, precise. As he shifted away, the Sami glanced downwards - eyeing the leaves that now plastered her stings like strange bindings with a slight smile borne of humor. How odd she must look. 

His inquiry brought her sapphires back to his gaze, the cyan orbs darting away just as quickly as they had sought his own. 

"Deat'," she murmured softly, wondering if perhaps she should keep her past under wraps. Yet, it was instinctive to answer; one of the many lessons she had learned at Hessía's knee had been that when a man asked a direct question, you answered. 

Swallowing heavily, she elaborated lest he be confused by her cryptic response. 

"I...angered ta spirits...disobeyed my husband. T'ey cursed me with deat'."

Ears tucked against the gold of her crown, her eyes wandered to him idly - waiting. 

Would he cease to see her now that he knew she was nothing more than a lingering spirit?

This was not Sapmi but even now the elf couldn't even be sure if she was alive or if Teekon was simply some unfamiliar realm she had been doomed to wander for her crimes. 

His ears twitched, his whiskers too. Death? How could such a maiden of light be cursed with death?
He peered at her, wanting to look at her depthless eyes and see the truth that lay in them. It couldn't be. But the signs were there.
The scars, the shyness. He cringed, wanting to unravel her past and find her before she had the pain. Unlock her heart and show her the world in its beauty. Show her how beautiful she was.
"I'm sorry that happened to you." He extended his nose to the sylph, seeking to comfort her.

"I'm sure the spirits will forgive you. Follow what they tell you. The stars, the Earth, they will give you signs." He smiled, trying to ignite hope and a feeling of security in the woman. She didn't deserve to live in fear, not when she'd been through so much already.

A memory surfaces, from somewhere behind the locked walls of her mind where she has forced them to stay. 

A beetle scrabbled across the stone floor of the cave, inciting delighted giggles from the pale girl clutched between Elve's paws. 

The stepmother smiled softly, the muscles of her face spasming from the lack of use. It faded soon, a flash of fire causing her to gasp as a split reopened in her lip. 

The girl turned, curious, and Elve forced another grin, tongue darting out in play - but also to hide the blood from the daughter of her heart.

Her eyes squeeze shut, pushing it away before it can hurt her. 

I am too, Druid. But it's my fault she's dead. 

Ocean eyes opened as he nudged her, and the Sami tried to smile reassuringly - immensely grateful that he could still see her. 

"Ta spirits speak wit' shadows on t'eir tongues now. I know not what t'ey want," she whispered.

His licked his lips, concerned. She'd closed up. A wave of sadness washed over him -- he suspected he was feeling her emotions. She was powerful. 
He wanted to make her happy, to chase away the dark spirits that had consumed her joy. 
Sheri moved and plonked his great ass next to her with a goofy grin. A time for cheering up and comforting. Myrto crawled from his fur to the ground, looking to the cache the Sylph had.

"I shall consult the stars and scry the future for you. I believe you will find your happiness and I hope I can be a part of it." He felt it was as much help, in words, he could give. Of course, he can't change the future but he can dictate the paths he can take. That he can help this woman to choose the best one; her happy path.
"I'm Sherigrim. May I be graced with your name, sweet maiden?" He gave her a mischevious look. He doubted she'd ever been called a sweet maiden before -- hope not. It would only add to his half-assed comedy that in practice was pitiful.

"T'ank you, Druid," she murmurs in genuine gratitude, not having expected such an offer. Elve's not sure the spirits can hear her from here, she has received no answers to her prayers. Perhaps Sherigrim could speak with them, perhaps he knew of some magick that could decipher their unintelligible whisperings. 

The mouse, Myrto, tumbled gracefully from the man's pelt - with the ease of one who has performed such an action multiple times past- as he graced her with an amusing expression that brought a smile to her face. 

The Sami leaned forward, removing a few strawberries from the bundle of stockpiled food - placing them before the rodent with a nudge of her rosy nose in offering. 

The Faery's playful tone draws her ocean eyes to those of cornflower - sensing the jest hidden in the words. She's unfamiliar with jokes, unfortunately, but she has heard enough quips about her appearance to recognize them. 

"Elve Heikkinen," she offers, alongside a small half-smile, unsure if she can still claim the surname of her adoptive Clan.

He smiled, gentler and softer like a patch of heather. His tail stirred, letting the happiness he felt flow from him and hopefully transfer to Elve.
"You have a beautiful name. It matches you," He gently leaned, gently bumping his shoulder to hers. He wasn't much taller than her, just bulkier. All the fur that made up his thick ruff certainly added to that.

He cast a gaze about, wondering if there was anything of use in the clearing that he could take back. He was sure he'd find something soon, but until then he'd happily sit and converse with the elegant woman until they bid goodbye.

We can fade here if you like?

An unfamiliar warmth stirred within - spring blossoms caught in a gentle breeze - and Elve felt a smile bloom despite the niggling insecurities laid in place by the Sami. Warmth colored her cheeks and her buttermilk crown dipped shyly, distracting herself with the playful Myrto in order to hide the tentative emotion Sherigrim had induced. 

After a time, when the buffering winds brought the scent of rain and lifted the leaves upon their branches, Elve recognized with a stab of dismay that it was time to go - lest she be caught in the coming storm. 

The Medicine Woman rose to her paws and rummaged through the otter medicine bag - withdrawing a bundle of herbs used to prevent infections. Burdock and chervile root, horsetail, and mallow, woven together into a plait. The Sami placed the plants gently at the Druid's dove paws - daring to lift her ocean gaze to meet gentle cornflowers as she stepped back. 

" 'Tis custom in Sapmi to return kin'ness," she murmured with a small smile. 

"May ta spirits wat' over you, Druid," the elf touched her nose to his shoulder, turning and tucking the bundle within the folds of her wrap as she turned away. 

She tugged the caribou hide over her small form, offering Sherigrim a last smile and dip of her head before merging with the woodworks - for once, hopeful.