Mores the pity

She began to lecture, and he fell into an alert pose, his attention on her and the points she indicated. He glanced towards the pond, and the direction of the compost. She certainly had a very good set up going on. No sign of that army of slaves, however. She did say others chipped in, but they took as well as they gave. Was that really the secret to such a wonderful garden? Or was it Io’s expert paws at work? Mostly likely the latter.

He perked in interest at the mention of a brother to Asla. So far, he knew very little about her family life. He couldn’t deny a desire to find out more, but she wouldn't catch up prying the information from her Auntie.

Io moved to one of the shaded trees, and he began to follow her, until she requested water be fetched. He gave a shallow bow to indicate that he had heard, and moved off to do so. Fetching two small pails of water and a scrap of cloth likely for binding wounds. But, it didn’t look like anything that would be ruined by a little bit of use.

He returned to the healer, and placed one before her muzzle for drinking. The second he placed beside her, and dipped the cloth into it. Leaning over, he began to rub soothing, rhythmic motions of cool water across the back of her head.