Herindel, Kleine Heilige

Blumé der Erinnerung


Herindel, Kleine Heilige struts toward you, inviting you to look at the gift they've brought you. They proclaim with a bragging tone that surely, it's the best gift you've ever received.


Herindel, Kleine Heilige sets off cheerily, commenting that they're happy to be useful to the pack.

"The Scent of Spring and Secrets"

The sun hung warm and golden over the herbal glade, casting a soft shimmer over the leaves of wild mint, goldenrod, and flowering thyme. Herindel moved gently between the rows of her carefully cultivated plants, her henna-hued fur kissed by pollen and sunlight. Beige accents rippled at her joints, and her eyes — glowing green around the edges, flaring red at the center — sparkled with quiet purpose.

Her twin brother was off with the hunt, part of Twilight Omen, but Herindel remained here — the heart of the garden, the pulse of care and calm in a world too often torn by tooth and claw.

She paused, lifting her nose to the air. Spring. Everything was blooming — the trees, the earth, even the wolves. The garden buzzed with tiny wings, and her paws were already stained with salve and root. She smiled softly. It was going to be a good day.

Featherlight arrived with a light limp — fresh thorns in her leg fur and a few streaks of dried blood down her shoulder. Behind her, four pups padded into the garden, wide-eyed and full of whispers. Dawnscourge's latest, unmistakably carrying the air of their father — and the sparkle of mischief from their mother.

Herindel gave Featherlight a look — both fond and slightly exasperated. "You again? Did you pick a fight with a bush or a bear this time?"

Featherlight huffed, flopping down with the dramatic air of one who knows they're loved. "This time it was a thornhawk nest. Don't ask."

The pups, meanwhile, had already begun their exploration. Herindel knelt down to show them the tender green of fevergrass, the curling leaves of painleaf, and the silvery sheen of ghostmoss. When she crushed a sprig between her teeth and let them sniff the sharp scent, they gasped in awe.

One of the braver pups — the one with a tiny nick in her ear and a bold tail posture — pointed excitedly at a line of dark insects crawling over a lettuce stem.

"Look! Bugs!"

Herindel grinned. "Lacewing larvae. Good for the garden, bad for aphids. Want to help me chase some of the pests off?"

The garden filled with laughter as the pups bounded through the rows, barking and leaping in a game of herb-guardian tag. Herindel played with them, tail waving, gently redirecting errant paws and curious noses, her heart as full as the blossoms around her.

Featherlight sat on a sun-warmed stone, watching — the edges of her usual composure softened by the sweetness of the moment. She looked at Herindel — so graceful, so generous, so devoted. Their bond went back generations, their lineages woven into the story of the pack since the beginning. A friendship older than any one wolf, yet alive and vibrant as ever.

Her gaze drifted toward the bushes.

For just a second, she thought she saw eyes — a flicker of amber, maybe? A rustle that didn't belong to wind or pup?

She narrowed her eyes.

Nothing.

The breeze smelled of flowers and damp earth, not fear or fur. Still... the weight of something unseen pressed just faintly on her thoughts.

She shook it off, stretching her sore shoulder. Probably nothing.

Herindel met her gaze across the garden, her eyes glowing warmly. The pups tumbled in the grass, giggling as one of them tried to wrestle a bundle of dandelion roots.

Featherlight offered a tired smile and thought:

"May the eyes watching us be kind."