Rainy day chores

Gwynevere tugged a fresh blanket up across one of the cots that lined one side of the infirmary before pulling the blanket off of the next and repeating the process, ending up with a pile of blankets and furs that would need to be cleaned and all of the cots refreshed for a new wave of patients. Solaire had taken over many of the more basic maintenance tasks like this one since he began his training, but occasionally she would volunteer to do them herself. Regardless of the fact that the whole pack made use of this space she still viewed it as a gift from her mother and took great pride in maintaining it. There was something relaxing about completing these repetitive tasks and being able to stand back and see an instant result of her work. So much of being a healer took time and patience. Waiting for wolves to respond to treatment, waiting for wounds to heal, waiting for plants to grow. At least these kinds of things made an immediate difference and gave her something to check off of her to-do list.

With that done, she piled the soiled blankets and furs into a large basket that she could carry out to the stream at some point to wash. The patter of rain on the castle roof and against the large windows of the infirmary didn't show any signs of stopping so that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Instead, she went over to the large desk that dominated the wall opposite of the cots and began pulling out some jars that she had cleaned out a few days prior. Some of the herbal mixtures and medicines she had made a few months prior had begun to show their age and as much as she didn't want to waste herbs she didn't want to risk using anything that had spoiled or wouldn't be effective on her patients. Soon the surface of the desk was lined with corked jars, dried bundles of herbs, and other ingredients she might need. Looking at all of her supplies she realized it might take her longer than she had originally anticipated working by herself so she might not be done with this by the time Mercury was done with his patrol. With a quiet shrug to herself she got to work. Ah well, it couldn't be helped, she supposed.

Gwynevere | Eilwen