Raise These Bones

Drífa looked carefully through several jars and tins until she found a small round tin with a lid that would be perfect for keeping her tisane in. The marshmallow she'd just picked would need to be hung up to dry before it could be made into a tisane. Luckily she had some drying nearby. Halla had strung the herbs up from the ceiling to hang for her. She was not sure where the macaque was but if she had to guess the monkey was sleeping snuggly under the desk in her room, swathed in yak hide.

Reaching up Drífa plucked one set of the dried marshmallow from the ceiling. She set them down on a nearby table then moved back to the tins. She was just about to pick one up in her jaws when the sound of approaching pawsteps caught her attention. She turned and gasped as she saw the beautiful woman standing there. The markings on the woman's pelt left no mistake in her mind. This woman was of the northern tribe. Of her tribe. "Oh! No, not at all. Please, come in. My name is Drífa. I'm sorry if this is an odd question but are you of the Northern Tribe? Or perhaps the name Fyri or Ignatius ring a bell?" She was normally not so pushy in her inquiries but she really had not expected to see another member of her tribe again and she did not want to let go the belief that this woman just might be one of them.


2/3 crafting tisane