Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime

Late morning, broken clouds, 39F/4C. Scully only please!

She lifted her muzzle from the lush patch of sweet grass she had been eagerly sniffing, tail swaying happily behind her. The patches closer to home she had been grabbing were not growing back as fast as she had hoped, so finding more of the medicinal plant was a good sign. Clover glanced around with a keen gaze, eyeing the greenery sprouting up from the shallow wetland in the hopes to find other plants around she could use. With winter right around the corner she felt the need to stock up as much as possible before it all wilted and became covered in snow and ice.

With quick hops and steps to try and avoid the deeper sections of the marsh, she continued her fervent search, sticking her muzzle and paws into the grasses and water. To another she may look quite odd, but she found this was a good way of finding any herbs and plants that were particularly good at hiding in moist and overgrown areas. When her muzzle bumped up against a cluster of white tuberous roots she paused, taking a moment to think before lifting her head up. She swiped at the stalks with a front paw, allowing her claws to rip open the stems. A yellow liquid began to ooze from where she had damaged it, and after a quick sniff she hurriedly backed away, pulling a face at the foul smelling substance. Definitely Cowbane.

She swished her paw in the muddy water to wash away any traces of the yellow ooze, knowing that even a small bite of the roots was enough to kill a wolf from its poison, and did not want to take a chance with the liquid from the stems. Clover decided she would be a little more careful in her search among the lush grasses, not wanting to accidentally poison herself on the Cowbane or any other potential poisonous plants around.

(This post was last modified: Nov 07, 2021, 05:41 AM by Clover.)

Scully watched from a distance, careful to remain downwind and out of sight. The small wolf was acting like a rabbit, in his opinion, and he found it curious enough to follow along and witness for a few minutes. By the time she reached the plant which made her face twist before abandoning it, he was bored with his stalking and gave up cover to investigate that which was left behind.

He snuffled carelessly at the plant, nose touching the stinking ooze before he got a good enough whiff to make the same face the stranger had.

"Oh my gods."

That reeked for a plant!

She had not moved on from the patch of Cowbane for long before she heard someone loudly exclaim from somewhere behind her. Her head twisted back, and she spotted a larger and darker wolf standing upon the Cowbane, pulling a similar face that she had. A flash of worry crossed over her face for a moment. If he had taken a bite of the tubers then he was in big trouble, but the foul scent was quite strong so she hoped he had simply just taken a whiff of the air around it. It was always best to double check, however.

"That plant is very poisonous," Clover called out sharply as she made her way back to the other wolf, taking much less care in avoiding the wetland than she had just prior. "Did you ingest any of the roots or the liquid?" Her teachers had only warned her of the roots themselves being poisonous, but they had said it was extremely toxic so she always steered well clear of the entire plant regardless once she figured out what it was. She was not aware of anything that could counter the toxic effects of the plant, so if the male had ingested it, even by accident, she would have to resort to getting him to expel the contents of his stomach before he showed any symptoms.

The urgency in her voice made him jump. Scully looked up at the woman, expecting some kind of anger, but instead she was - telling him about the long-stemmed flowers. Poisonous, eh? That explained the stench. Absentmindedly, he swiped his tongue along his lips and nose as he answered.

"I don't th-" he hit the droplets that had clung to his leathered skin, and the bitterness of their taste caused him to wrinkle his snout and spit.

"Elch, okay maybe a bit, man that's a nasty plant. I never knew."

He'd seen these bursts of white in plenty of areas before and never thought twice about them.

Her ears pulled back when the male spat some liquid from his mouth and confirmed he had ingested a little bit of the plant. She moved closer to him, eyeing the Cowbane plant while speaking to him in a firm no-nonsense tone. "Was it the root or the liquid, and did you swallow any of it?" From what she could see he had not taken a bite out of the visible roots above the murky water, but regardless it was not good either way.

His only saving grace would be if he had spat it out rather than swallowing it, as then she would have a bit more time to find a herb she could give him to force him to throw it back up. If he was lucky she would not need to give him anything at all and they could simply wait out his symptoms until they went away on their own, if they even showed up. "It's toxic to anything that eats it, but if you did not swallow any of it then maybe you'll get lucky and not suffer any ill effects." She knew of another herb that thrived in wetland areas she could give him in the worst-case scenario, but first she would need to find it among all the lush grasses.

(This post was last modified: Nov 08, 2021, 08:20 AM by Clover.)

His company remained serious, and Scully couldn't tell if she was really that concerned over this plant or if this was just how she was. The dappled man quirked a brow upward as he regarded her and the questions she levied, along with the information that followed. All Scully knew was he didn't down the whole dumb thing and he felt just fine. The Archer took a step back.

"I uh, I think I'm good, nurse. Definitely didn't eat any roots."

Weirded him out a bit, how quick she appeared to be to take responsibility for him. It'd be his own stupid fault if he ate poison, wouldn't it?

She let out a sigh of relief at his response. That was good, and she wouldn't have to worry about him meeting an ill-timed death by an unfortunate twist of events. "Sorry for being pushy," she said a little more softly now, her ears splaying to the side apologetically as she lowered her head a bit. "It's just that even one bite of the root, or ingesting a mouthful of the liquid, can lead to a nearly unpreventable and often painful death in most cases." And it would've been all her fault, as she had been the one to mess around with the plant in the first place.

"I'm Clover," she offered to the male, a small hopeful smile on her face as she spoke. Perhaps she could still salvage this interaction, even after the somewhat unusual start, and guide the conversation to something not about a deadly plant.

She was visibly relieved, and it continued to strike Scully as odd. Where he was from, wolves didn't show such concern for others not related to them by blood or vow. Just weirdo vagrants did. She smelled of others, though; a lot of others. Her scent was pretty messy, so was there a pack of them somewhere? Or was she the black sheep?

"Damn," he commented at her description of what could have been. That was sort of why he didn't go around biting random plants, though. Aunt Ravenna had managed to teach him that much.

"Scully Archer. Of the Ridge. You with that crick pack?"

He did not seem to perturbed at her explanation of the dire consequence from ingesting the toxic plant, but at the very least she was content to know he would not attempt it again in the future, even if his reaction did not indicate that. Some wolves were particularly apathetic towards certain things, or perhaps this wolf simply did not show his emotions as much as he felt them on the inside.

Clover was glad when he offered up his own name, committing it to memory along with his physical appearance should they cross paths again. She took note of his addition of 'the Ridge', wondering if that meant there was another pack nearby. A quick sniff yielded no answer to her curiosity, as she could not discern any specific other scents from his fur that would indicate he was part of a larger group than just himself and the occasional interaction with another.

But his question had her canting her head to the side, a little confused at what he had just asked. "I'm not entirely sure which pack you are referring to," she began, trying to think of which group he could be referring to. There were the Cove wolves on the mountain, but perhaps there was another she had not discovered yet. "But I am a part of a pack to the north-east of here. Dead Empress Backwater." She divulged the name in the hopes that would clear up the miscommunication between the two of them.

"Are you part of a pack... this Ridge, you speak of?"

She was rather proper. Scully's smile quirked, his fancy tickled in the sense that he wanted to see what it would take to make her act improper. His mind wandered with impish musings as she spoke, giving information and asking for the same in return.

"Sure am. Willow Ridge. Kind of a big deal here."

Did it really matter that they were currently in a little in-between on the actual pack part? The Ridge had existed, and would exist again. Regardless of which moment in time, he was a part of it.

"Dead Empress, that's pretty gothic. Up near the flooded woods, along the uh heart leaf thing?"

(This post was last modified: Dec 17, 2021, 01:51 AM by Scully.)