Whitefish River This is your heart, it's alive, it's pumping blood

Nodding her silent appreciation, she felt a little bit bad that she already wasn't planning to be in it for the long haul here.. but those stormier thoughts were soon willed away, or rather, overshadowed for now in favor of listening. As they meandered along, she was dividing her attention between what her mom said and the greenery afoot--for there was plenty to see, but she did note that it sounded like it just took practice, and that it seemed like something you generally learned from your mothers, too.

When directed to the rock with green fuzz on it, Syrma sent her sights right that way and nodded again. She had seen this stuff before! But, didn't know it was called moss or that it was that useful--and certainly, something as straightforward as cleaning a wound seemed very important. Ohh I've seen that around here a lot, she noted, especially near the waterways and around the shaded reaches of the woods. Now looking back, she realized she had probably just categorized it as some weird type of grass. A closer look to see that it was actually quite different hadn't come before. Is it the same green fur that's on some trees? she asked when the thought occurred next.