It seemed Witch was lucky and didn't have to worry about having stuck-up packmates -- this one, at the very least, seemed honestly interested in what she did and had to say -- as Emrys watched and replied in kind. The cream pelted man quelled her worries with a flick of his tongue, making sure she knew there would be other days to hunt: this let her believe that the alpha was not so strict as she'd also worried, that she would not be turned from the family because in her first days she couldn't land a kill. The off-white wolfess hadn't ever been a superb hunter, especially when it irked her to send any soul to the other realm, but just by looking at her plump build atop slimmed limbs one could see that she could clearly feed herself. Those were warmer months, though: in the face of Winter, she went from easily preying on the fat and healthy to chasing after the sleek and the starved. They, like the hunter, felt the keen sharpness of Winter and strove tenfold to survive, lending swiftness to their paws.
Emrys also voiced his doubts about not showcasing her skills in the cold -- he was right, she knew. It would be easy to treat a wound or a cough with some of the herbs she carried, but to do so would be to wish some sort of pain on her new packmates and even a Witch who wished to learn and prove couldn't think of putting anyone through even the slightest of sicknesses.
"If the opportunity arises and Gent trusts me to do so, I'd be glad to heal again. 'Till then, I can keep looking for roots and seeds, perhaps chose a spot for a suitable garden come Spring."
Here, her bicolored eyes flickered to his eyes -- until now, they'd been curiously roaming his frame, the area around them, or even his face to avoid direct eye contact in fear he would lash out -- and the fae gave another smile. Perhaps a past Witch might've shied away from giving such personal knowledge to a stranger in her caution, but even careful as she was it was the need to be accepted and loved that allowed her to freely speak her mind. It was a rough topic, but easier than some of her other stories and also better than some of the backgrounds she'd heard from others. Some had their families ripped away by death -- and in a way, Witch had that too -- or torn apart by war, but hers was much simpler.
"Nothing bad, really. Numbers just started to dwindle, and eventually those who were left decided to split ways. Some went to their natal packs for their golden years, some went off with others to look for a new pack, and some traveled the world. I fall into the last category -- I spent almost my entire life on that shore, and loathe as I was to leave it, I wanted to know more."
More.... So much she'd sought for, summed up to one word. She'd been looking for many, many things since leaving the coast. Some answers had come easy, some had been a struggle, and others she just plain hadn't found yet, but Witchhazel believed each step was one that led her further down the path her goddess and the earth itself wished her to walk. One day, she would call herself a seasoned priestess, one who could speak for the spirits and listen to the world like her maloid banrion had taught her so.
Sex: Male