The sixth hour

He grabbed several large dock leaves, gathered last season, hung up to dry, and placed them to rehydrate in some pre-boiled tepid tea from earlier that day. He shook his head to the warlord's question about her ties, trying to recall the few mumbled words he caught.

"I didn't notice any pack scent, it was all bear and blood when I got there... Something about... won't go back, she promised?" He lifted a brow to his cousin to see what he thought about that.

The paste was coming along well, yarrow, arnica, st johns wort and plantain were getting mixed into a bowl, he stirred while they spoke.

"Mind adding a splash of that to this?" He asked, nodding to some tincture by Bas.
"Whips?" He remarked, he'd never seen whips around here, "We don't use those do we? What are those? I didn't bring trouble, did I?" He was still a rather young teen with minimal outside experience and extremely sheltered. He hoped he didn't make any trouble with the new Syndicate nearby. Did they use slaves?

"Speech"