wild things

Morgawr was out looking for new herbs. It was a good mission; there was a reason behind it and everything, a reason nobody would question or anything. Even if they asked. She knew they wouldn't. No one, even her parents or siblings, cared a flea's worth about where Morgawr went. Sometimes, though she felt silly for even thinking it, she wondered if they would even care if she left the Armada completely. She wasn't a very good fighter or healer, nor was she even a very good packmate. She just didn't fit in. Maybe she never had. Maybe she just wasn't a pack kind of wolf.

She breathed in deeply, letting the frustration wash away as she kept loping onward. What she needed was some time to herself -- a day or two, out on her own, where she could just collect herbs and think. A very brief trial run of what it would be like to live as a loner.

And it seemed like the world was wishing her luck, because only a few hours in, she spotted a stone brick wall and -- much more excitingly -- a short bush of white flowers (Jimson weed) she'd never seen before growing beside it. Moving closer, Morgawr decided to investigate. It had sort of spiky green leaves, lighter on the bottoms, and trumpet-shaped white flowers. As she continued to observe the plant, wondering how she might collect it and what it might do, her mind was entirely occupied. She probably would not notice anyone approaching unless they called out to her, even. Not that she tended to pay much attention to other wolves normally.

Speech