The dugout den that she's dug occasionally rattles as the wolf inside brushes against the piles of scrying bones tucked away by the hole in the wall where she's started to gather a few herbs and aromatics. Oleander's pawsteps barely make a sound.
"Must stay stocked," she murmurs, almost grunting it out. She speaks no more, only pushes past Mordecai's outstretched head as she emerges into the fresh, cool mountain air, snow crunching ever-so-gently beneath her pads. She is not surprised by his presence.
Mordecai is still unused to her disposition. "Tala visited again."
He receives no response.
He clears his throat and continues. "She made Fera give birth."
Oleander perks her brows and just slightly cocks one ear. Mordecai nods at her. "Dead?"
He shakes his head.
"Sick?"
Once again.
Oleander huffs and looks away from him. Without a word, she flicks her tail and walks away.
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art:
by me (#14831)
by #8918