to whom it may concern

Seth sighed, and eyed the drab little shallow hole he'd scratched out for himself. It was hardly the Ritz Carlton of dens, not nearly as nice as the cave he'd had back in the canyon. He barely fit in there, let alone had the ability to store any herbs. It would need to be enlarged, but he couldn't even begin to consider that kind of strenuous movement for some weeks yet. He could manage a gentle walk - well, hop - so he could probably find the common herbs around the pack lands or just outside them, but once he did, where on earth would he put them? By the time his condition had improved enough to do what needed doing, it would be far past the season for gathering and drying herbs. He'd been gathering some things he'd needed for treating his own cuts and bruises, but without anywhere to put them he'd been using them fresh and just finding them as-needed... a risky proposition when he knew so few alternatives to use and the season was passing already for some of the ones he knew. Well, it wasn't as if the mortals here didn't have a healer who - surely - had a well-stocked cache already. He just wanted to have his own stores that were his, personally, without any obligation to anyone else. He had enough obligations to others just from his physical disabilities, the idea of asking someone else for any help he didn't absolutely need to was distasteful to him.

It would undoubtedly amuse many of his family to see how far he'd fallen in the world, but he'd seen an opportunity and taken it which was more than he could say for many of them. He wasn't content to simply keep his head down and survive as he had perforce done for most of his younger years. He'd done more to prove his worth than nearly all of his able-bodied relatives... they had simply had to be born whole and hale. He'd had to do murder to survive. Next to that, what was bowing his head to a few mortals? What was cringing, when necessary? His kin were proud, but their pride kept them from doing what might be necessary.

He dropped his heavy head to stunted forelegs. Spring-green gaze wandered seemingly unfocused over the land surrounding his den. His every movement gave off the impression that he was no threat... after all, the easiest lie to maintain is the truth, and he didn't mean these mortals any harm. He was just an injured, crippled little dwarf. He did cast one last disgruntled glance over at his den before stretching out in the summer sun, but that too would change once he was well enough to do more of what was needed.