cloud lash watched the girl with wide eyes, red and shining. so curious. so soft. she was like the new bloom of skedzay’s feather, all petals and tilt. a girl who listened. cloud lash liked that.
not runes, no, but she did not correct her.
instead, she leaned back into the earth, side-by-side, her back brushing the grass as she let her basket tip. tiny stems spilled into the light, mint, yes, but also rabbit tobacco, yarrow, the blue-shaded ends of soapberry sprigs. and tucked beneath it all, slivers of birch bark, dried but sweet with sap still.
these, she said gently, gesturing with a paw, are for the belly. for cuts. for hurt. she said it slowly, letting each word bloom. her nose turned toward citlali’s, a curious sniff shared. you not valley-born. not a question...just a knowing. but i like your voice.
she pressed her nose into the herbs and took a deep breath. then added, i show you which are for dreams.