With spring came thoughts of Tikal or, rather, more thoughts of Tikal. It was hard to not think of her as spring buds began to form along winter-weary branches, and even harder not to as snow turned into flushes of yellow, blue and white flowers. Anemones bloomed along the streams, several having already been visited by bees, their centres rounded and swollen with seeds. Shem had, despite his uncaring exterior, spent a surprising (especially to himself) amount of time watching and learning what he could about Taviora's flora. One might have anticipated that he'd soon become a healer, following his mother's teachings, but instead, he plucked the stems - leaves and all - and began his trek towards Glorall. He had no reason to announce his leaving, and no reason to wait either.

It was harder than he had anticipated to travel so far while keeping the flowers safe, and so he had arrived later than he had hoped. As tired as he were, he did not stop to rest, nor stop to announce his visit to the wolves of Glorall. Instead, he moved across the borders and single-mindedly towards Tikal's scent without regard for the formalities. As far as he was concerned, they were nothing compared to his task of finding Tikal and delivering his trinkets.

She was, however, harder to find than one might imagine. In fact, he felt hopeless until she called out for him. He had been able to feel her presence, and he had felt the telltale tickling of a would-be sneeze, but only when she sang out did he move in a bee-line towards her, forced to a lope by his excitement.

Unable to call out to her, he moved loudly, cutting in front of her line of sight with his chest ever so slightly puffed and tail high and proud. Though the leaves and petals had drooped, the seed heads were the real prize. Wordlessly, he laid them out before her, and then stepped back and breathed in and out as deeply as he could for the first time in what felt like an aeon. While she perused them, he took a moment to himself to enjoy the salty air, only peering back to her when he was sure she'd had enough time to investigate the flowers.

"They grow along the streams of Taviora, or below the trees in the fallen leaves. They go...back underground, I guess, in winter, but seem to double their numbers come spring," he said with a small shrug. "My mother says they're good to stop bleeding, too." He motioned towards them then with his muzzle, then lowered it down to nudge at one of the seed heads. He wasn't sure what to do with them, but he assumed Tikal did at least. He just hoped she'd be able to use them, or at least find them pretty enough - despite their rather limp, depressed state - to want at all.