Catch and release

It hardly mattered how much time had come to pass, the curtain of the ancient willows here still sung of home to the wayward Archer. The acrid tang of freshly peeled willow bark and the whispering of the leaves as they caressed each other in the breeze bought her a peace that she had only found some distant cousin of within the tall walls of the bamboo maze. She lazed on the bank of a stream that flowed down from the hot springs, a paw dangling in the water where warm water mixed with cool and took the edge off the sulphur stink that would turn her stomach so easily, especially in her current condition.

Otis fished another sprig of mint and some sweetgrass from his pouch and offered it up to her, and while she pulled a face, she knew better than to delay taking the medicine offered. The last thing she wanted to do was have her throwing up slow down her journey home.

“Speech”