His ears pinned to his head, and he smelled... not good. Fermented, almost. Pickled? No, more fermented. Antiseptic. Was he injured? Had he gotten hurt and had someone wash the wounds out? Meadow was still trying to process what she was seeing, and the boy was looking at her with his hackles up. Heart pounding in her chest, Meadow was visibly nervous. Was he aggressive? If she needed to call for mom, for Artorias, would she be able to? Meadow didn't think of that, and she hadn't really tried before.
But then, he was um... a bit pathetic, actually. Pathetic in the way that tugged at her heartstrings, the lost puppy act really kicking in. He needed help. Meadow could help him, probably. He was all slumped and scrunched, and could he really be a threat in his current condition? And he didn't feel well. Hungover... did she know how to fix that? No. Still, the girl gazed at him with interest, trying to process exactly what was happening. He looked tired. He looked worn out. He looked like he was struggling... hm. At his request for help, she simply nods before disappearing back into the shadowy grove.
Meadow was lucky that the plants here were fairly plentiful. She gathered a bundle of mint and chamomile from the little patches the healers planted and maintained. It took only a few minutes, and she returned to the spot that she'd run into the boy. Careful to keep her distance just in case, Meadow set the herbs down for him. Upon taking a backwards step, she looked up at him. Those were for him... if he'd take them. He'd asked for help, but taking herbs from a stranger? Meadow wasn't sure if she'd do it. Well, help was here.
