The voice of a young male broke Bard from his dreamy reverie. He focused his eyes, seeing a male around his age sporting a dark coat with silver markings much like his own black and white. And much like his own, the male sported a scar that had a remarkably deliberate nature to it, though on his forehead rather than his hip. Bard's interest was piqued. "Go raibh maith agat. Thank you, friend. As for what brought me here, 'twas simply my wandering feet finding me a beautiful place tae rest my weary bones and listen tae the song of the land before I get back tae the trail." Purple eyes trailed over the other male, noting the motherwort, clipped from the plant with an efficiency that spoke of a healer rather than simply someone collecting plants. "And you, friend? What brings ye to this abundant place?"
