First Harvest
Well, that was...eventful. Heart still pounding from his run and the sheer fear of collision, he avoided the stranger's yellow gaze, looking down at his own paws and the plant they both sought to collect. Embarrassment still burned in his mind; he couldn't even think about what had happened or even look at the alabaster male without bitterly regretting his actions. What had he been thinking, charging in like that? It wasn't a matter of life or death; so what if someone else coincidentally showed up at the same time seeking the same item? He had to be more careful and, never did he imagine saying this, relax. Perhaps it was his strong compulsion to rip out every herb his eyes spotted. He couldn't just leave it there growing, he had to take it back with him. Was it an unhealthy habit? He didn't know. Sicknesses of the mind wasn't his field, though he'd be happy to heal any wound regardless of how ugly it looked.
The other male hesitated with his response, and though he replied with a no, the older man knew that look on his features too well. Of course he wanted to get it. It was yarrow, a fairly important and useful herb - it helped reduce fevers if he recalled correctly. A wave of guilt washed over the earthen healer. It wasn't fair for one of them to leave empty-handed, even if he presumed there would be more growing around the moor. Not knowing how to gather it wasn't a legitimate reason, in his opinion. "Nonsense!" he assured with a broad smile and a certain twinkle in his bronze gaze. Beckoning the younger male over with his neck, he patted the soil around the herb with a mocha paw. "Come over and I'll show you how. We can split it. How's that sound?" |