Draugr is by me!
The panic that filled Draugr subsided a little; Odessa did not seem angry with her. Draugr understood death and the dead better than she understood the living, at times -- preparing Larkspur's corpse had been an interesting task, one the drab-hued wolfdog engaged in eagerly. Perhaps it was wrong to have felt such elation at learning these new tasks from her mother at the expense of Larkspur's very life -- she certainly would not speak such things to Odessa. The dead's survivors did not need to think of corpses.
As the orange-eyed woman spoke her eagerness to lose herself in task, Draugr nodded eagerly -- perhaps too much so. She did not know what to say to comfort the woman, and anything she might say was rudimentary and childish. Or, at least, it would seem so, coming from the mouth of one so young. After a moment of debate, she spoke quietly. The sun will heal you just as it makes the plants grow. The dark-furred wolfdog's smile was uncomfortable, and she dipped her head, ears folding in embarrassment. I only wish I knew how to do more, miss Odessa, the youth said, digging a toe into the earth as she said this. You're -- you're very smart with the garden, she added, so perhaps the silvery woman might attribute Dra's statement to the garden or the subject of Larkspur's loss, whichever she preferred.
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