whiskey soda

For whatever reason Haezel felt inclined to stay in this place. Knowing she should trust her gut, she had no inclination to leave until the feeling had passed. There was something for her here. She knew it in her bones. What, exactly, she hadn't the slightest, but she was eager to find out. She needed something, anything, to ease the loneliness she felt in these lands. Sometimes her loss was breathtaking. If she stopped to think about what was gone it hit her like a punch to the gut. Everything. Everything was gone. She had no home, no community, no guide. Nothing. But, she reminded herself, life went on. She had a purpose she just needed to find it.

One of the great things about this place was the amount of plant life here. It reminded her of the grand master's garden. All she had to do was think of what she wanted, feel around a bit, and boom, there it was. Without a gut feeling, the plant life alone would have been enough to give her second thoughts about leaving. How could she leave such a treasure trove?

After carefully stoking her faithful fire, Haezel gently set her turtle shell bowl atop it and lay down beside it to await its insightful burning. In the turtle shell's belly was today's haul from herb hunting. Haezel was asking the same question she'd asked every day so far. For help. For guidance. For something to give her days meaning.