Rustyyy. Set between borgata coatl and the lesser forest.
She sat at the mouth of the cave watching the sunset through the trees. Her thumb ran over her fingers repetitively as she tried to ease the soreness in the joints. The wilting light was not the same shade as the dawn she had arrived in. There was no red, but more of a soft pink that swelled behind splatters of deep orange. It bled between the dark stripes of tree trunks and eventually died just before hitting the small clearing she perched in.
Lana would have liked a place closer to the blueness of the sea. From where she had settled now there wasn’t even a shimmering smudge of a lake nearby. But the cave was large and secluded, away from the exasperating noise of the pack. Her dark claws still felt heavy with the dirt she had scraped from the least slanted wall to structure shelves for her supplies. The work was slow and made her fingers itch with aching.
The approaching night still tasted of winter and hints of sweating snow banks lurked close by. Wind chilled her fur and made Lana rethink the desire to live by the sea. Darkness gnawed on her back and somewhere inside the belly rested the lynx, her bright eyes closed but ears flicked forward. So when Lana finally stood, Cas seeped from the black immediately. Her bag followed the swift movement and flapped in the pinkish light.
She tried to think of an emotion at least once a day. That morning it was something close to anxiety - even if it wasn’t. Recently, Lana had decided that feeling nothing was hardly a feeling at all. It was like someone had sliced the vein that produced fear, excitement, and joy from her body. And she didn’t remind herself who it was. That would come another night when the comfort of cigarettes could bother her with their drowsiness. For now, she walked towards the setting sun.
This wasn’t her first walk of the new territory. The intoxicating scent of poisonous plants had drawn her out of the cave every night as if there were strings tied to her ankles. A familiar flapping of journal papers against her leg reminded her of the task at hand. They danced and snapped at the ground, weighted with hundreds of lines of tiny writing on each page. Herb names flashed before Lana as her rebelliously amber eyes devoured every leaf visible. These had been recorded. No choice but to move further.
The woman stifled a sigh, unwilling to let her breath cloud the air. She paused a moment to root for the small pencil in her satchel. Items bumped against the stiff leather which had yet to dry properly from continuous days of use. Having found what she needed, Lana padded on with her opposite hand outstretched to feel the rough bark and malleable feathers of ferns. Her mind wandered for a moment, as if searching for peace or a name to her feeling. But she closed it off with a clench of her fist that now hung disappointedly at her side. A small sprout caught her sharp gaze and Lana knelt in the drying mud to examine it more closely.
Again Odessa had left the warmth of her den for the chill of the thistle lands. Snow blanketed the ground thickly, though the medic had more than enough common sense to don her thick deer skin cloak for her ride. She had also been smart enough to use a deer skin rug for Remy's back too, not only keeping where she sat warm, but also keeping the large Hispano-Breton warm. Remy moved through the snow with ease, his bulky hooves showing little mercy to the white carpeting. He faired much better in this sort of weather than the lanky piebald gelding. Keshi was hanging around Odessa's home, grazing on hay under the tarpaulin shelter the medic had put up for him.
Odessa had a reason to be out in the cold, as the medic's bag at her waist signified. There were many herbs and plants that were hardy enough to survive winter, some of which had not been collected yet. It was a long shot that she would find anything she needed, but on the rare occasion she did it could turn out to be vital. Which is why this wintry rides were so crucial. The gardener halted her horse, resting while the snow flecked her dark hair.
The sprout had three small leaves, two were covered in broken flakes of snow. Lana dusted them off with the tip of her dark finger and let them meld back into a whole. Silently, she pulled her medical journal in front of her and scribbled a small description in tiny script. Dark claws gently pulled away the fresh frost from the stem until she could see specks of frozen earth. The plants of the west were different from the ones that flourished in Europe. They were brighter with more accents in the foliage. Even the scents, that spiced the territory from every corner, were rich and invigorating. Every chance she got, Lana would learn the ways of this new place.
Her ears swiveled towards a rustle in the denser part of the forest. Focusing, fiery eyes noticed a trail of paw prints in the snow that dispersed into the thicker undergrowth. Assuming it was her inquisitive companion, Lana returned her attention to the herb at hand. She detached a single leaf and watched as the plant swayed from the movement. A small vile was removed from her bag and capped with the leaf resting inside. Her stubbed pencil began sketching the sprout with rapid skill. Chills from the snow began spreading against the knee that lay skirting the top of the blanket. She shifted without taking her gaze away from her journal, but noticed a figure at the edge of her gaze. But when she turned, there was nothing but the waves of green.
Odessa watched the woman carefully. She seemed to be doing more or less the same thing the medic girl herself was out here to do. Of course, Odessa had already documented these in the journal she'd donated to Salsola's stores. Keshi fidgeted underneath her as he grew tired, and interested in the woman too. The Curandera nudged the paint horse on into the clearing where the woman sat. Dismounting, she smiled and spoke, 'You know that there's a large glossary of Salsola's plant life in the storage, right?' She asked, moving over. Her hand released Keshi's bridle gently, letting her move forward till she was a metre or so away from the elder woman.
A gentle wind blew and Odessa's fringe covered her pumpkin eyes, With a swift grey gloved hand she set it back to the side of her face. Gripping onto her bag tighter, she slipped her hand into reach for her scarf. Usually she would not where it unless out of territory, but it was cold and the item itself was warm and insulating. Wrapping it around her neck and shoulders, Odessa turned back to the woman, 'I'm Odessa. Odessa D'Angelo'
The cluster of strained lines transformed into the loose shape of the plant. Her pencil went on gliding across the rough page until a voice broke the muted noises of the morning. She could hear the smile in the young girl’s voice without looking up. The edge of her vision quivered with the dark hooves of the steed the girl appeared to be travelling with. Lana sighed, a slight growl escaping between her teeth.
“I am capable of documenting my own way,”
The woman sneered defensively, finally taking in the girl from behind her thick bang. She had dismounted, whether out of respect or comfort, Lana felt sour either way. She didn’t much like people, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with younger ones.
A chilled breezed caused the mottled gray female to slip a scarf around her higher features. Lana stiffened but remained in her crouch as the wind sought her skin with sharp teeth. The journal fluttered uncontrollable in her hand before she placed it back in her bag. Rebellious eyes took in the girl again as she introduced herself. Dark fingers plucked a leaf from the sign of spring and placed it in a small vile that had replaced the journal. She shook it gently, getting the sprout to face her as she counted the veins darker veins.
“Lana,”
The healer said, her tone softer but still edged like ice. A slight smirk tickled her lips when she finally stood, her Italian form looking down on the younger girl.
“Realm.”
She spoke again after a frosty hesitation. Her accents made the words prickle and dance across her tongue, exotic and sensual. Eyes burned through the winter air, finally meeting the other’s own coppery irises.
angels watching over me with smiles upon their face
Pumpkin eyes regarded the work with genuine interest, she would not admit her own works were perfect and enjoyed learning from others. But her sunny and gentle disposition soured as the elder woman spoke. Oh, now she hoped Immy got to the healer rank before this woman. Imagine trying trying to work with someone with this much disrespect for their higher ranked family. Odessa was usually slow to use her rank against others, but now it seemed that it was only her duty as a trusted member of Salsola. To discipline the associates when they stepped out of line. 'You might want to watch that tongue of yours, associate' she spat, softer than a more confident person, such as Salvia, might have. 'Disrespect towards your betters won't get you far here'.
'Either way' she concluded, her voice soft and harmless again. A sign she wanted no more hostility, 'I was just telling you, if you ever wanted to refer to something. Or even contribute to it'. She shrugged, while she enjoyed tending to it herself, it was neither here nor there whether she minded someone else working on it too. As far as she knew it was near impossible to be added to at the moment, for it was up to date last time she had looked.
'cause I have made it through this far in an unforgiving place
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