an old saint

Raga laid a hand on Lúta's shoulder for a moment before she started rooting around in the duo's bag. Lúta didn't need to see what the macaque was doing. They'd been through much together. She knew that even most of her memory had all but left her. She smiled at Halo. "Well, we have white willow in common. How about you accompany me and Raga to the source she found? We could look for horsetail after if you liked. I don't have anywhere to be and all the time to spend." She had not yet decided if that was something she wanted to change. Did she dare to join a pack with her mind in such a state? Lúta could be reclusive if the mood struck her but she also couldn't imagine living all by herself for the rest of her life either.

She got to her feet and followed Raga to a stand of young white willow. The wind stirred the drapping leaves, rustling them gently in a way that seemed to beckon the healers forward. "I uh… couldn't help but notice that you're a pack wolf. How is it?"