L'allievo insegna a

 He was learning Italian at a quick rate, something that he hadn't before been sure he could do. The first time he had heard the words he had stumbled along, unable to really pronounce or remember the definitions. But his young, growing mind had quickly caught on. It wasn't to say he was fluent by any means, and his dialect could sure use work, but he knew a great deal of words that were useful to him. And by that, he meant herbs. He was starting to know both the english and the italian names for all the herbs in his own personal store. His knowledge of healing, as well, was starting to grow larger and larger by the day. Harmony had taught him the basics, that big healing meeting had taught him more, but Starling learned a lot of it in his young life through trial and error. It saddened him that he had missed Abaven's own healing lessons to attend the fighting (which hadn't gone nearly as well as Starling had hoped) but regardless...he was still learning.

His father seemed to be around a lot more these days as well. So, Starling decided, he'd have some fun. Collecting some of the basics, his horsetail, agrimony, alfalfa and fumitory (found either in their claimed territories, or around it) he'd call for his father. "Padre! Tempo lezione!" He'd call with a laugh, knowing that's how his father had called them. He wanted to teach, and not be taught, and he wondered if his father knew what each of the herbs did. They were, after all, right at his finger tips.


"Burn Baby Burn"
"Italian"