Iskra
this heartwood was cut too damn deep
The Ancient that comes around the tree at once has Goose standing up from his sit, his tail tall, but waving. ”Oh, Aithne, hello,” Iskra greets, tension at once relaxing from his shoulders, its tightness having found a place there on the automatic. Too many threats in Caido to be caught unawares. Goose glances up at Iskra’s easy voice and loosened posture, and though he had not yet met Aithne, and perhaps there is a touch of accusation in the look the dog passes off at him for leaving him home, he can tell that she has been deemed a friend.
The dog approaches her casually, reaching up with his nose to snuffle at her hand. ”Are you also here about the screaming rain, or just paying general respects?” From his pocket, Iskra withdraws a carving. It’s a woman emerging from a tree, signifying Mathair, and he stoops to place it at her base. It’s made out of manzanita, a lovely, natural red. ”It’s a startling bit of weather, but I think she is worth paying homage to every year regardless.”
The dog approaches her casually, reaching up with his nose to snuffle at her hand. ”Are you also here about the screaming rain, or just paying general respects?” From his pocket, Iskra withdraws a carving. It’s a woman emerging from a tree, signifying Mathair, and he stoops to place it at her base. It’s made out of manzanita, a lovely, natural red. ”It’s a startling bit of weather, but I think she is worth paying homage to every year regardless.”
I can't see the wood for the trees
