You run real good

Having accidentally run into Modesty out on his gathering trip, his collecting had been cut short. Among the various bumps and scrapes there was a particularly nasty wound on her cheek, and he was sure if he didn't put something on it soon it would begin to itch. Problem was, most of his stores, now that he looked at them, hadn't made it through the winter. He'd taken a room on the lower floor of the main building with a broken window, and damp had gotten in. The unseasonably wet spring, with short bursts of warmth had encouraged mould growth and pretty much most of his hanging herbs had to be burned. Even the poultices were 50/50, and the bandages may as well be rotten rags. He let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh. It seemed to be a sound he made more often than not these days.

He'd been scouting some of the outbuildings. He had found what once would have been called a bungalow, with a big glass wall overlooking what had once been a pool. It had a large space that he had been working on clearing whenever he got 5 minutes spare that would serve well as an infirmary, with a room off to the side he could call his own, if he ever got the leaders wife well enough to not need watching like one of her many fucking children. He'd dragged the makeshift sled he had used to get her home into the dank little room and began to sort through the supplies, either throwing them into the small flaming bucket he had set in the middle of the new room or placing them carefully for transport. Far more was being burned than kept, and it caused his brow to furrow in worry.

He sent his monkey to fetch a soft goat skin that he had been keeping his navigation notes on. He had caches marked with dots, and a few scribbled landmarks laid out. He set the monkey to duplicating the map on another much larger piece of hide while he tried to keep a mental note of what they would need to collect to replace what had been lost. First and foremost, a salve to reduce scarring, or at least keep the flesh from forming a painful knot. Strawflowers would mean a trip to the western edges of Algoma Prairie, he pointed to a flower and then to the spot on the map, keeping the least damaged dried specimen aside so he could rope in some help on this one. He watched as the monkey began to sketch out the rough shape of the flower and nodded his approval before fetching a sprig of rose hip and marsh penny, gesturing to Sea's Plain and Corpseghoul Swampland respectively. Lavendar was more for presentation than anything, but if anyone needed calming it was the leader's wife, so he grabbed a stem for good measure and gestured to the Tall Grass Plains. Someone had left their garden behind when the pack moved, and he knew there was an established supply there.

Perhaps this really was too much work to do on his own? He gave a short howl to call in Rivin, at least he shouldn't have to spell out the needs for each plant with her assistance.

“Speech”