Chamomile

Over these past few weeks, Karine had met so many new faces, but as much as she appreciated their friendliness and, at least with most of them, the rich company they provided as fellow healers, these recent encounters left her feeling strange. From Paladin to Cloudburst to Kepheus to even the glowing horse, not one of them, not one, had come close to the souls she'd known back in her homeland. Back home, everyone had equal potential to be friend or foe. Everyone had known or at least recognized her, if not directly then vicariously through Aleksandr (or one of the many paths of destruction he'd left for her to mend in his unexplained absence), but most of them had known her to be different from her brothers. She'd proven herself, possibly a dozen times over, not to be the same Praeses that most had learned to fear. Sometimes this had meant a new target on her back, other times a new ally at her side. But that life had been predictable nonetheless, and she'd at least had the foundation of an empire to help protect her when the odds were stacked against her.

But here, on Boreas, she'd never felt more vulnerable. Or alone.

These new faces served as reminders that she was as much a stranger here as they were to her. And that meant, well, many things. On one hand, it meant that she could shed from her shoulders any worry about being singled out for Aleksandr's mistakes, for it was clear to her so far that his influence had at least stayed contained to the regions he'd conquered. She had the opportunity, now, to make a name for herself rather than be forced to repair it as one her brother had tainted. She could venture through these lands as just another wolf, extending her paw to those who needed it.

On the other hand, though, she also felt incredibly alienated. Every new face she encountered served as a reminder of another that she'd known, loved, and lost. Sometimes it was that of either of her brothers; sometimes it was those of her parents, or her husband Sloan, or any one of her beloved, beloved children. There were so many names that had the potential to come alive in her mind simply because she realized she was meeting another stranger, and the agony was almost unbearable. And if that wasn't enough, she carried a new weight with her that had replaced her concern about being blamed for Aleksandr's transgressions: the weight of having to build a whole new reputation for the Praeses name altogether, of a desperate yearning not to replicate the pain it had caused so many...not so long ago.

She jerked awake in tears that morning, gulping down breaths like air was water and her throat was parched. Her mind burned with a mingling of fresh images pulled straight from her memory, and as she lifted her head to look across the way at the empty space of her makeshift den, suddenly, so did her eyes and throat begin to ache. Before emotion could entirely take over, Karine lugged herself to her feet and slipped outside. She needed to get away.

The fallen priestess didn't much care where she went so long as it led her away from memories of a distraught Aleksandr, critically-injured Armen, or a pile of newborn puppies under her roof. Eventually, she found herself deep within a formation of sand dunes, sparse foliage, and, at its center, a small pool of water. Near that? Well, it was almost enough to form a new lump in her chest. Karine spotted a chamomile bush blooming off in the shade.

She managed a small, bittersweet smile. Chamomile had been the only herb she'd managed to teach Aleks anything about while his mind was still relatively healthy. It was her starting point with all new pupils, helpful in its harmlessness and versatility of use. There was as much sentimental value to it as their was medicinal, which today made it perhaps the most ideal of herbs to have stumbled upon. Karine approached the bush tentatively, pausing before it to lift a gentle paw to one of its late flowers. She then lowered it, reaching forward instead with delicate jaws to pluck a small mouthful of the plant from the bush and turning to carry it to the water.

Karine brought her small bouquet to the edge of the oasis, where she lowered herself to the ground and the plant between her paws. There was a moment of hesitation, then, before she lapped up a few of the sprigs, pulling them into her maw and gnawing thoroughly away at them as she nudged the rest to the side to make room for her weary head. An ivory skull settled between ebony paws, and for awhile, she simply forced herself to reside there in silence. Chamomile, Karine knew, wasn't a cure-all, but it would take the edge off her emotions while they ran high and at least give her an opportunity to reel them in the rest of the way. Now wasn't the time to let the past weigh her down, after all. She had a life to rebuild. Somehow.

Word Count: 873

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