-- dis post r poops 
Draugr is by me!
Draugr's only fights had been during the attacks -- and even then, she hadn't really fought. She had harried and harassed while her mother did most of the fighting. The wolfdog considered, and nodded her agreement a moment later. Thoughts and fights are incompatible. The earthen-hued canine wanted to ask him about his fights -- where he'd fought, who he'd fought, how many times -- but the golden-hued canine was motioning toward some scraggly-looking trees. Most all of the forestry around Salsola looked scraggly. The marshy, salty soil was not conducive to growing the thick woods of the more southerly lands.
The hybrid trotted toward the aforementioned area, sharp gaze roving over the bushes. She spied the thorns and was careful to avoid touching them, though she quickly figured out the sheer number of them meant this was nearly impossible. They were, however, thankfully rather short, and could not penetrate thick fur. She was careful where it came to the paw pads and claws of her hands, however, but soon found herself withdrawing with a cerise berry.
This? she asked, offering it over to the slave. She dared not eat anything she wasn't positively certain about -- the wolfdog had just enough knowledge of dangerous plants to have this deep-seated avoidance of the unknown.
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