Blackfeather Woods In the middle with the beggars and rejects

The chirp drew her attention—it wasn't one of her three; she knew their voices nearly as well as her own by now—and she turned to see Rowan approach, looking excited. His query pleased her; she smiled, giving him a brief nod and pausing her work on the cache of herbs tucked neatly between a couple of old, moss-blanketed boulders. She could always resume later.

Of course, Maegi said warmly, settling down on her haunches. Still, still, her curled paw dangled slightly above the ground, above the other. . .but it always would. She had once hoped that maybe she'd grow into it, and her body would become even, but to no avail. She had made her peace with the imperfections of her body, her face, her soul.

What do you want to learn about? she asked, wondering if he had something in mind already or if it was more of a general knowledge session. She was fine with either, truly.