even the best healers needed to re-learn the basics. not that he needed to re-learn anything; he knew exactly what to do. still, practicing the fundamentals were essential. Holland wished at times he had an apprentice to help him gather as much as possible, but he knew a trick to collect more than what others thought he could. but that'd come with time. for now, he ran his claws against the cave's surface deep within. the moss here was lush, growing in the dark with little sunlight, and abundant. neutral grounds meant he could collect as much as possible. he was acutely aware of the other pack nearby. the past few days, weeks even, had a surge of numbers. though Holland didn't know the name of the pack, the woman named Deathbelle lived there now. he could smell her scent at their border when he passed them by. he just didn't know she was the leader. it didn't matter to him really. he had plenty of things to do for Lirim; especially preparing for winter's coming. for now, he'd focus on the moss and what it could do for the pack. it was universal. the children could play with the leftover moss balls and he could be left alone. not that he hated kids. he just felt so damn awkward around them. continuing to run his claws in one fluid motion, a strip of moss uncurled from the wall and deposited at his paws. he set to work with another side, aware of the footfalls behind him this time. he said nothing to the new wolf, only glad it wasn't an angry bear. "SPEECH" 1/3 rounds for moss gathering

It would seem he was not the only one that enjoyed the darkness of caves. Nostrils flared as ears picked up the sound of claws rasping softly against stone, not the typical click clack of one moving either- no this was like…clawing at a stone. It was a sound he was familiar with, having had collected moss from rocks in the cave back home but he didn’t know surface dwellers were familiar with the task…nor did he think one would be bold enough to come so far into the darkness. This cavern was damper than the ones he called home, allowing moss to grow in abundance without light- in fact the only light he figured they saw was that from the glow worms and other…glowing things. Curious, Thoren would rise from his reclined position on a bed of moss and would move forward casually, eyes having little trouble finding their way since he was accustomed to such darkness. Eventually, he would come upon the other wolf. A male by the scent of him and he was…collecting moss. A lot of moss. “Are you preparing for a raid?” He asked quietly, voice echoing softly as his voice faded. A hint of chuckle behind his words, but there was a seriousness too. He had smelled the other pack nearby as well, but they had a different scent than this wolf. Was he here to cause trouble? Thus far Thoren had gone undetected by packs in the regions- he wanted it to stay that way. He was only here for his sister, after she whelped her litter and they were old enough to travel they would go home- whether she liked it or not. He had someone to get back to. "this is speech."

the other was slightly amused he was collecting moss. Holland would look down, seeing his ivory paws stained with green and ignored plucking it out. another paw ran down the length of the cavern's walls, a thin strip of foliage peeling and collecting at his feet. no introduction was given, yet the other man still wanted to know what he was doing. the healer wasn't very social but he'd... try? "no" he offered quietly, his voice echoing around the nearly silent cave. his back was still to the stranger as he bent his head down, softly nudging the bundles together. "I am collecting moss" that was obvious to anyone who saw him, but he felt driving it home was much easier than going into a tangent. "winter... will kill many plants" Holland went on, returning to the wall. another bundle of moss would be useful. he could carry two in his jaws and one under his chin. "but moss. moss can be stored away. it doesn't go bad fast." it was one of those handy universal tips. perhaps he should be asking the man who he even was. instead, he was giving a small lesson like he was some kind of teacher. "SPEECH" 2/3 rounds for moss gathering

Thoren watched as the wolf scraped the cave walls again, more slivers of moss fell to the ground in his pile. Thoren shifted closer to observe. The green clung to the wolfs paws as he scratched the cave walls. Eventually, the stranger spoke more, explaining that it was not for a raid but for winter. He nodded slightly, understanding what he was doing…but he didn’t understand why he took so much. “Why not leave until run low? Then come back for more?” He asked, caves in his home held moss nearly year round- perhaps not every area but more than enough to get through winter…was it not the same in this land? Perhaps he couldn’t go as far into the cave as Thoren could. “Why so much? Pack must have lots of wolves.” He asked, “do you wash moss in stream before storing?” He asked, did they save moss the same way? He couldn’t wait to find out. "1/3 healing skill"

Holland would finish gathering the moss, patting it flat against the ground so it was easier to carry. the other man had lots of questions still, and he noticed the accent. the broken English. he wondered what culture the wolf came from, but put it out of his mind when he thought more about answering him. it wasn't his business and he didn't care. "because I want to be a competent healer" the Lirim man would state softly, though his eyes squinted lightly. if he left it to the last minute, some idiot could have injured themselves and he'd be forced to leave them to gather. he had no assistant and to his knowledge, the other healers in Lirim were not as active as he was. Holland would prefer to avoid a disaster by prepping for it. "it'll just get dusty again... if I store it afterward. so no." he sighed, praying to the gods for strength to answer these questions. it wasn't like a wolf invented a feather duster. he couldn't predict how dusty the herbs would get. and dirt never killed anyone to his knowledge. he refused to give out Lirim's population to the man. stranger or another pack wolf, Holland kept his mouth shut about his own pack. anything else you want to know? he resisted snapping, his patience wearing thin. "SPEECH" 3/3 rounds for moss gathering