Marshmallows

Álarr hesitated at Iki's next question. "Most are ok. My brother and our youngest members have recovered. A few of our oldest though, succumbed to their illness. I imagine it is the same for yours?" It had been a terrible loss to lose Ásvor and Valdís though not unexpected. Both of them were well advanced in age and likely only had a year or two left but it still felt like they'd been taken from the world too soon. "Is… Hattori ok? I met your alpha before the Darkness. I know our packs have been at odds in the past but he seems an honorable wolf."

She agreed to follow him to see how he prepared the root and he turned to head toward the small encampment he and his companions had made along the river. Álarr nodded. "Yes. Although I am healed from my illness my lungs and throat are still inflamed. It will take time to reach a full recovery."

Soon the pair arrived at the campsite. His white raven, Brynhildr, was settled on a stone near the fire. A hide was spread out nearby with a number of ceramic bowls, bones, water skins, and other odds and ends. Álarr set the root down and chewed the top off before placing it in the bowl. "You can use your paws to mash it but I find using something like a deer shin bone works better." He picked up one such bone and aimed the ball of the joint down as he mashed at the root.