the house / a heartbeat

She supposed it was as good a time as any to start looking. The hot springs smelled appealing; Bylgja glanced at the various bodies of steaming water. Some of them seemed... to be less... burning, than others. Bylgja tried to avoid the ones that seemed too heavy-scented. Some of them smelled like grease. Smeared grease. Fat. Burning. She supposed that those were springs others had fallen into.

With a low huff, Bylgja tilted her head and looked down; her paws crunched against grass and stone. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to gather some herbs and then go for a dip in one of the springs, as long as it didn't seem too hot... though Bylgja wasn't sure she trusted any of the springs not to scald her into nothingness. Delicately, she circled around one in particular; she'd spotted the target of her search. Quickly, she plucked some of the boneset, and tucked it into her pelt, up behind her ear, tangled in her fur.

She'd be able to carry it back better that way.

... she'd really need to get a satchel. This sort of thing wasn't conducive to traveling and doing her work well.