It's Quiet Outside

The yearling wolf rolled his eyes with an exasperated smirk when Gwyn teased him for not retaining any of the herb lessons she had given him. That had been almost a year ago now, and he was a much younger pup who hadn't really given a damn about plants and flowers. Of course he didn't remember anything she'd told him, no more so than if she'd tried to remember fighting techniques from him! However, the recent days had shown him the tremendous use of a healer's skills. He had been essentially sidelined, watching helpless while the healers did all the work to save Resin and help the injured Tamsyn. For all his strength, he was useless. Gwyn and the other healers were the stars of this show. He held no animosity for that—he didn't care for glory after all—but he did wish there was some way for him to help his parents. Feeling useless was the worst feeling he'd ever felt.

He gave a hum and nod when Gwyn tasked him with simply finding anything green and leafy in the winter wasteland. While easy in theory, practice would be much more difficult. Artorias placed his paws on the edge of a deep slope along the side of the ridge and pitched his weight forward, sliding down the ice to a lower tier of the ridge line. All around him, all he could see was snow and ice and dirt. He scowled. How in the names of the gods was anything supposed to survive once this winter was over?! Turning around, Art followed along the ridge line, peering at the craggy sides of the ridge where some bones were jutting out into the open. He didn't recognize the creatures they belonged to, but they certainly seemed fearsome. Thank the gods they were all extinct.

As he was passing by an alcove, Artorias spotted a larger skull with what looked like small bushes growing along the edges of the bones. Amber eyes brightened and ears perked on his head. Green, leafy things! "Gwyn! Over here!" he shouted out for his sister. Artorias walked closer to the bushes, staring at the bright green, veiny, slightly velvety leaves. No flowers grew atop the stems, no doubt culled by the cold, but the rest of the plant seemed hardy enough and had been sheltered from the snow and frost by the alcove and the skull. Of course, he had no idea what he was looking at, so Art didn't touch it right away in case it turned out to be poisonous or something. He leaned down closer to inspect the plants, then reared back and stood aside while waiting for his sister to show up and appraise his find.


"Artorias" | Thoughts | "Corbin"