my lungs are fresh & yours to keep

Whistling willows. Why were they called... whistling? Dread isn't sure that he knows. His brow furrowed deeply as he thought on the idea, crossing into the shade that the trees created. It was a day so still he could barely take it. Halo had given him one assignment or another-- basically a shopping list. She'd sent the boy out looking for things now that he could range farther from home. While Dread wasn't sure how he felt about being an errand boy, he supposed it was better than having to do all the digging for the garden irrigation on his own. Yeah, pretty much anything was better than that.

She'd sent him after white willow bark, ladyslipper, and something else... what was it? Well, if he got that far, he'd ask Roan. It didn't matter much right now, probably. The bark was his quarry now, and the yearling scowled to himself as he examined each of the trees. Halo said the leaves would look different than the others, and she'd even sent him with one for reference. Each tree Dread passed, he carefully studied. However long it took, it looked like he'd be out here. At least the day was still fairly young, mid-morning sun shining down around him.

"Dread Fatalis"