He is hardly a part of the larger scheme of Taviora, and yet it is home more than any place else had ever become. He had helped Amoxtli heal after his victory against one Jaidah. He had taught little Herschel a few things about the plants of the woods, the three other boys not bad students but hardly so interested as he had been. It had then fallen to him to travel the vastness of Moladion in order to be prepared for not only winter but the coming spring. He was in no position to send young wolves out for his ingredients, after all.

And now he hears that he is being offered as a teacher to another, someone from out of their home and from the swamps he had been told he ought to avoid by a few who shared the same sentiment of Asteraia, the great plains.

The politics must have shifted while he was away.

So here he comes, arriving with his not-so-small sea turtle shell with turtle leather caught between his teeth as he dragged what he might otherwise teach this young wolf about his arts and medicines. “Achh, tehr yeh ahr.” he says with his mouth full and neck crooked from dragging all his various things. He spits out the salty leather and tilts his head at the boy on the rock, “You are certainly not the least bit hard to find, the scent of the marsh is strong… though oddly herbal and pleasant. I would very much like to visit sometime and see what your home offers by way of plants and ingredients.” he admits, unabashed about implying he might be asking for that gift later in time.

“So a bit of interest in the healing arts? Or just a green dewclaw enthusiast?”