» O p h e l i a «
[Rank: Shaman] . [Crush: No one] . [Speaking to: No One] . [Mood: thoughtful]
Gossamer shafts of light flooded the Shaman’s den, illuminated its otherwise dark interior and its sole occupant in white rays. The she-wolf who busied herself within was once again rearranging the contents of the shelf-like depressions within the underground tunnel where she routinely retreated to treat the sick and the wounded. It was her life’s work and the lissome female took great pride in her duties. So naturally she would grow restless when there was nothing for her to attend to.
There were no new mothers in need of examinations, no pups whose antics resulted in injury and no border skirmishes that demanded her immediate attention. And while Ophelia certainly didn’t wish ill or harm onto any wolf be they friend or stranger, she couldn’t help but feel a bit…useless.
Pink eyes beheld the collection of herbs and roots, items frequently used in her practice, and set them aside. The withered and dead leaves that could no longer be used were shuffled into a pile to be disposed of and she gathered them up in her mouth, cringing slightly at the bitter taste of decay. Ophelia slid out from her den and shook out her fur, the long train of her tail following after the waiflike dame as she looked for a good place to dig and discard her herbs.