Cabhair liom

She nodded quickly as her Uncle listed off what he needed. A long, long walk later, she’d settled him into one of the alcoves, one deeply bedded with mosses and grasses. While he rested, she worked with the herbs, deft despite the fact that they weren’t her main knowledge. Ayodele had healer’s training, having traveled with Paladin’s monkey and lemur before they found the wolves, and walked her through some modifications that would accentuate the efficacy of what Tornach had already been doing.

The result was a thick, cool paste, and a lot of it, mixed with the water from the spring outside the cave system. When she returned to her Uncle’s side, her father was stirring from a deep sleep, but she didn’t nudge him yet to tell him about Tornach’s presence. Instead, she settled by her dark-coated uncle and worked gently in tandem with Ayodele, covering the burns with the paste – a mixture of many herbs, including Valerian, honey, and a sort of clay Paladin had learned was particularly good for healing and drawing out infection and heat from wounds.

She also nudged a small concoction of herbs under his nose that would ease his pain, fever, and bring him a comfortable sleep, which she knew he needed. As she worked, she talked, about everything that had happened in her life as a whole. It fell into a cadence of storytelling, soothing, emotional, open. She spoke of hopes for the future, ideas for crafting, for animal breeding, for agriculture.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think