Jael moves across the ground with a lingering limp. Though her rear ankle had mostly healed, it still wasn't as strong as her other joints. As strong as her other limbs. She's sore. While the girl wouldn't admit it out loud, she's sore. Her gait is hindered by the aching of her muscles, and her typically-confident stalk is more of a jagged affair. At least Gil wasn't around to see it. What would he think? Jael didn't like that he worried... by the same token, she like that he worried about her. That was selfish. Did she care? There was a learning curve to it, but Jael was starting to let herself be at least a little selfish with him. Savor his company, his tenderness, all of it. Fuck. Right, don't think too hard about that. You have work to do.
Work she did. Jael was hunting for recreational drugs, things she could return to the pack with. Hunting carefully for them, nose low to the ground. All they had growing for fun plants were a few sad jazz cabbages, and that wouldn't do. Jael knows this market, and she knows it well. She'd have the Raiders up and running in the drug trade in absolute no time, as long as she had her way. If she didn't get her way? Jael had a plan b, even if she wasn't proud of it. But that was something to help them later.
Gripping a large, empty jar, Jael lowers her head. Tracking and trailing the scent of damp earth and good mushrooms, the wolfdog is hot on the chase. Wrapped up in her work, and good work it was.
As her keepers, Gilgamesh and Modesty may join any of Jael’s threads if they deem necessary.
Professor
