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Lichen hangs behind the fledgling, for two main reasons - first, to give herself plenty of opportunity to observe young Craneberry in flight; and second, to swing past a juniper branch that was hanging low, heavy with its fruit, and snag a talon-full to bring along.

Curious and cautious, the Medic hangs back from the crack that Craneberry has found, and she scans the area for a likely perch before coming to a graceful landing nearby (but not near enough to frighten the mice!). "However did you manage to find this place?" Lichen asks, canting her head to the side and taking note of the tell-tale traces of mouse spoor.

"Here, they might like these," she offers, drifting the small cluster of pungent berries over towards the fledgling with a lazy effort of her Will. "Leave them nearby, preferably in a place they've already marked with their feces. Rodents trust things that smell like their own refuse."

((We can leave off here, sure! I don't think we need to worry about a new thread, unless you really want one.. we can skip forward to when they are near to approaching if you'd like, and we can settle on a new post-order with our Apothecary.))

Drywood finished up the ditribution of his latest mixture and gave the ten mus a brief but careful inspection for any sudden, unforseen side effects. Happy to find none, he gave the dewy-eyed, cowering little creatures a cheerful nod and hop-skipped over to his workbench to clean it up - a task that he applied himself to with the same meticulous care he used for mixing medicines and poisons.

Once everything was up to standard he took a step back and beheld the perfect order of his organised little world. It calmed him in ways that he usually wasn't even aware that he needed, to have everything in its own place, like this; No speck to mar the smooth surface of the workbench, nor the polished wood of his bowls; No herb, moss or leather pouch out of place. It was good. It made sense.

With a smile and a sigh of satisfaction, Drywood turned and left his "lab" behind, fluttering down into the living-space part of his large home, immediately setting about with making it just as neat and well-organised as the upper level. His efforts were only slightly foiled by Tails, who dozed in his nest, thick ringlets sloppily hanging out here and there. That was acceptable, though. He gave the serpe an affectionate inspection, and she acknowledged his presence with a very slight coiling motion.

Longtail had been hunting, and was feeling gloriously full, comfortable and generally at peace with the world.

Craneberry have had so much fun that she doesn't have time to be anxious about flying or falling. She has been sleeping soundly each day, and fortunately for Lichen the fledgling has been tired enough not to talk her eartufts off when it's time to sleep.

She has learned a lot on this trip, eagerly soaking up every bit of knowledge Lichen has provided. At the moment the fledgling is singing cheerfully to no tune in particular.

"Feather moss, white moss, wound moss,
Reindeer moss... ‘s not a moss."

"is... is... A lichen!" she finally exclaims, a bit winded from her improvised singing. She quiets down as Lichen announces their presence and flies in silence behind the Medic as they enter the territory.

"I trust that you remember what I asked of you," the healer prompts, as they continue into Drywood's territory. "He's a little.. odd. But he's the best at what he does, and if you recall what I told you about the importance of giving the correct dosage of certain medications, well," the implication is clear. In some situations, only the best will do.

"Drywood's type is quite old, with a heritage that can be traced back to the wars." Or so they claim, but the Mist is above such petty allegations. "Some would call him an Aberrant, of course, but that sort of name-calling is not appropriate for one who serves the clan." And with that she lets her warnings subside, choosing instead to focus on the path they take - and their surroundings. It's been a while since she was here last, and the Apothecary's choice of Companion has always been somewhat unnerving.

When they arrive at Drywood's tree she lands lightly, moving aside to give plenty of room for the fledgling. Glancing about warily for the Serpe, Lichen smiles and dips her head to the Apothecary in greeting - waiting for her charge to introduce herself first (since the healer is curious to see how Craneberry interacts with strangers!).

Perched comfortably just outside of the entrance to allow his guests as much landing space as possible, Drywood greets them both with his usual smile. He notices Lichen's surreptitious glance but does not have time to follow it, to find out what she might be looking for, before the smaller one attracts his attention.

She doesn't move right. She flies well enough, obviously, or she wouldn't have made it all the way out to his remote territory, but the fatigue of the flight makes the strange stiffness in her movements immediately apparent to the apothecary's keen eyes. The moment he had spotted the two pale shapes, he had suspected that Lichen was bringing him a patient, and now that suspicion seems confirmed. He gives the mist medic a brief bob of a bow and a smile, and turns back to the little one just as it - she - addresses him.

"A Good Night to you both!" He intones cheerfully, tilting his head ever so slightly as he observes the little Ghost curiously. "What can I do for you?"

Craneberry steps closer, staring up at Drywood with huge eyes. She can't decide if she should be more scared or nervous or curious, but the curiosity is slowly winning.

"Lichen says..." she starts uncertainly, "Lichen says my... my wings need to learn how to move properly. I fell... But she fixed me. But my wings forgot how to move."

The little shadow demonstrates by showing the stretches Lichen has taught her. It's easy to see that some of the movements bother her, but Craneberry is determined to carry out the entire routine even if she's a bit sore right now.

It pleases her to see Craneberry step forward and speak so clearly, her chest swelling with pride - as if the young fledgling were her own charge, somehow. While Lichen did not raise the Ghost (by any means!) she's certainly seen more of the youngster than even many of the Minders in that enclave. So she can't help but feel somewhat responsible for the fine young lady Craneberry is turning into.

Drywood's proclamation is answered with a nod, her attention more on the fledgling than anything else (although she is still keeping a wary eye on their surroundings). The healer seems quite content to remain silent until she is addressed directly.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Broken, actually, almost past repair. Craneberry was quite lucky," she replies, the implication clear - the fledgling is lucky that Lichen was near enough to help, as the damage was beyond even the best Medic's ability to heal. "There was collateral damage to the muscles and the connective tissue in the area, of course. It seems that the lingering stiffness and.." she trails off, frowning slightly as she gazes at her patient, "...while everything is healed, the muscles are reluctant to move in the manner they used to." What she does not say out loud is that she's honestly not sure where the source of the reluctance lies. Is Craneberry too frightened to move properly, or have the muscles healed wrong? Or is it a combination of both factors? Whatever the reason, Lichen has learned over her seasons of healing that sometimes the medication heals mental wounds while it helps to fix physical problems as well.

Lost in thought, she gestures for the Aberrant to precede her inside. It's fairly clear from Lichen's mannerisms that she intends to remain silent and out of the way unless questioned directly - Craneberry is Drywood's patient for the time being, and she will not tread on his talons.