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He was surprised to find his favorite spot to collect herbs not empty. To his knowledge, no one else knew of it and it was strange to find an unknown doe -- and a mongoose, clutching leaves in its mouth -- staring at the flowering field he considered his own. He was not sure he was up to dealing with someone, not with how the day had started.

He had woken from a horrible dream, his fur drenched with sweat, only to find a young doe sick not far away. He had nudged his foxbun to the stores of plants and attempted to help her. Needless to say it had not gone well and he'd decided to stay in his -- not quite a -- cave of a home. And then he'd found he was running low, if not outright missing, quite a number of helpful leaves and fruits and stems and seeds and berries.

He sighed, he needed the medicinal things he'd come to collect. Surely there were enough for both of them. He gave a nod, sending his pink foxbun sliding forward -- why it insisted on riding on his head, he would never know -- and his vision temporary disappeared. A snort was his only reply to that, leaving his voice to call out to the doe, "Do you come here often?"

The foxbun shifted upward allowing him sight to see the doe shoot up. Healing Wounds tensed at her quick reaction; he hadn't meant to startle her. It seemed that he often did that without intent. At least she had not shouted at him.

She began to stammer and though he thought to interrupt, he remained silent. That may have had more to do with the ever sliding foxbun on his head. His mouth twitched and he made the decision that it was coming down.

He was in the process of unseating his pet, the pink fluffball sliding from its perch on his head by tilting his nose upward, when she blurted out, "Are you okay?" His eyes shifted, was she being polite or did she think him ill?

"My day has not had a wonderful start...," he started and then shrugged. "Does something ail you?" he added, for he had not run into other kin like himself that were into herb gathering and naturally assumed she might be ill. However from what he could tell she had no outward symptoms from this distance.

The fact she was looking for a plant had started to ease the knots left over from the morning -- until his brow furrowed and his mouth quirked. He was not at all ill, although he might not look his best, and he was torn on whether to be irritated at the insult or amused because if anything her faux pas was greater than his own this morning. (He still did not understand why the sick young doe had been so offended when he noted how her belly was getting round -- it meant healthy sacs, she should have been pleased...)

Amusement and curiosity won out, his ears flicked back and his mouth flattening into a thin line. "That is news to me," he drew out at last. "Whatever could be wrong?" He pretended to be gruff all the while thinking he would have to help her find the herb she sought in return for his charade.

He gave his head a shake -- only to stop when he felt tiny paws scurrying up his leg -- at her diagnosis (and her description of how he looked). A long sigh left his mouth as the mongoose took a perch on his head. What was it anyway, with damn pets taking his head as a perch? The foxbun on his back clearly did not appreciate the intruder, either, with the way she chuffed and chittered and growled. Well that made two of them.

"Yours?" he queried the doe, eyes rolling up and spotting the white blossom surrounding the yellow centers of the herb. He could not see the mongoose but he felt it. "My foxbun bites, you know," he told the pest and then decided the best thing to do was ignore it. After all telling Fluster to get down had never helped any, why would a mongoose be any different?

Turning his attention back to the doe, "I don't think I have a fever. Come to think of it, you're looking quite flushed. Perhaps you have a fever!" he returned, a hint of a smile twitching at the edge of his lips. Between the two of them, he was sure he was not the one with fever though really he didn't think she was either.

The warning sounds from the pink foxbun seemed to wilt as the kimeti conversation went on; Fluster was not accustomed to sharing and she lunged forward with a swift, firm bite of the mongoose's tail. The buck underneath the squabble did his best to remain still and focus on the doe in front of him.

"I, myself, am rather poor at--" pause, "social interaction." It briefly seemed he was done speaking and then he began anew.

"My name is Healing Wounds. This is m--" he gave a cough to change his intended my and switch to more neutral choice word, "a fine place to find herbs. Are you a healer as well?"

On top of his back and head, the foxbun began to chatter. Not that he had a clue what it was saying.

Well this was real luck then, to have found a healer as awkward as he. "Ah, yes, whiteflower is a useful herb. It does grow here though it's cousin moonflower often hides it." A shame really, though he supposed it reflected life. The bad often were shadowing the good until they were hard to see.

Upon his head, the foxbun squealed -- or perhaps it was a whistle -- in victory before curling up once more on her owner's head.

"That I think is a pet trait. Fluster is a nervous ball of fluff and yet she does manage to get into the most troublesome situations," he revealed with a chuckle.

A fever... Now that she mentioned it he had seen a fair few kin that seemed to be suffering. Although it seemed lately, he had found himself attempting to help relieve either young mothers or naive mushroom consumers. (Neither types ever seemed to like help, either.) He gave his head a nod, it might do himself some good to make sure he had some whiteflower. "We shall both have to stock up then," he answered with a smile, glad to know what it looked like.

He turned away and took a few steps before twisting his neck, he wanted to make sure she followed. While whiteflower grew all over this area, there was one spot it was much easier to harvest -- it was tiresome to avoid getting moonflower in one's mouth, even worse when one did not realize they had. "They redeem themselves, I think. At least Fluster is quite helpful at applying salves and holding herbs," he smiled. In that, he'd taught her well. Everything else? Well he never claimed to be a pet trainer.