"Really seem to read you."

As she stepped into a forest, something about it felt mythical, magical even. The air was pure, every breath she took it felt like she was directly taking in nature itself in it's purest form. Something holy stirred, like the Goddess graced such land as the trees stood high and proud, breathed in grace and in return stood enchantingly before her so, "May the Goddess guide us," she so whispered while inching further and further into the forest, feeling the closeness that it felt so similar, but not like home. Nothing like it, but the air and atmosphere was everything that gave her that and she..

Stopped within her tracks, head to the sky — prayed silently. Engulfing what felt of magic that strung along her fur — static, rising in but a pure bliss and the feeling that she was in enlightenment.

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His head hurt.

A dull, distant, throbbing pain.

It came from somewhere behind his eyes.

Or maybe it came from his ears, and their faint ringing.

He licked his lips.

Felt the coppery, broken texture of where his lower lip had been nicked.

His elevation higher than hers. His front paws placed close together on the thick, jutting root of a towering tree. His back legs more spread out. The wood rough below his paw pads. Moss covered bark.

“Moon-eyes.” He grunted down at her.

His voice low.

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In prayer and thought, gently listening to the sounds of nature and the rustling of the magic that breathed to this forest. To hear that of the birds chirping, and the wind that drifted between her furs — bliss. Ears twitching, the sound of light steps within her serenity in the distance where she slowly opened a gaze, and was addressed so. Smiling lightly, thinking that surely in this forest bound by mythics, that this too was by the Goddess's whim. To turn and see him, a man who in the end never learned a name.. But more and more they met — strange bonds that twined them together, but what should she..

"Sandman," calling lightly with a smile, "how does like fair you?" but as she looked at him and pieced together — the heavens truly bonded them so. For something was odd about the way his mouth was, and her white eyes focused on so with a light concern.

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Sandman.

He snorted.

Huffed.

His right ear drawn back.

And he made his way closer to her. Down and over the thick, green, moss-covered tree root. He scented her, when he came near. Her scent alone. No strangers. No pack.

‘How does life fair you?’

“Fine.” He grunted.

He raised one of his back legs. Scratched behind his ear.

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Despite all so, he never gave a name and settled upon 'sandman,' although knowing her name, Miriam was dubbed as 'moon-eyes.' She didn't mind it too much, maybe a felt bit blessed by being compared to the moon above the sky.. But was a strange, and pleasant interaction to meet this man every so often. But it almost felt like she was pulled and brought to a destiny, squinting lightly toward his face, she didn't step forward yet.. But..

"Do you need help with.. That?" she wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't look comfortable to say the least. The goddess wrapping her in all magic and destiny for the world itself, perhaps he was sent to her, at this very forest, for but a bit of help from the maiden. She would hope he would allow her to do this.

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His back leg raised.

He continued to itch and scratch at the spot just behind his right ear. Against the scalp. Short, blunt nail against thick blond fur and the dark skin beneath.

‘Do you need help with… That?’

The split of his lower lip.

The piece of something—sharp and aching and clear—caught and pressed between his bottom canine and incisor. It cut and split his tongue whenever he pressed it. Branches and bone pushed it deeper.

He shook his coat.

“It’s fine.” He grunted.

It was nothing.

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He was a strange man. Always seemed reluctant to be around life itself, and seemed to simply want to exist in his world. There was always an anger, always a brutish way about him, but never has he been quite rude or hurtful toward Miriam that she found no reason to turn him away or bring a strong dislike. Mostly of pity, especially when he rejected her help when she surely could do so. This lively forest, even by a glance, held such a variety of herbs..

"It looks painful," Miriam commented as she looked to the right on a nearby poppy, "perhaps you would care for some poppy seeds, to dull the pain?"

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He swiped his tongue along his cut and broken gumline. Across the split of his lower lip, where bottom canine met incisor.

‘—to dull the pain?’

“Whatever.” He grunted.

And he sat.

His tail brought close. His shoulders broad and slouched. Matching, parallel angles. Offset by the jut of his elbows.

He watched her.

His expression flat.

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It was the closest thing she was getting to a 'yes.'

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She smiled pleasantly, showing she was more then pleased by his acceptance.. In his own way. Mildly moving herself to the seeds, she plucked the poppy flower from it's stem and carefully brought over so. In front of him, where she shook some the seeds on a leaf that oh-so conveniently, had fallen quite close to them. They were small and round, looking like an ant, "they'll make you feel sleepy but can help dull the pain."

Just enough, to give him comfort, "although too many can be addicting," Miriam warned.

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Poppy seeds.

A small light brown pod, broken open and spilled. A myriad of tiny, dark, round little seeds, like little pebbles overflowing.

He ate them.

They clung to his teeth. Buried into the gums.

And he laid down.

Flat, on his stomach. His head rested on his foreleg. His ears pressed back against his head.

He watched her.

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She was quite pleased when he ate them so, a lightness surrounding on the small help she was able to attend, despite him not letting her examine closer. He laid on the ground, and she continued staring at his torn-gum with a mild worry and examination, as Miriam hoped it would not grow infected.. Poppy seeds could only do so much to dull such pains, but by no means was a help of any sorts. If she wanted to apply something, she doubted highly he would not let her..

Maybe she could minorly trick, as for a moment Miriam had stepped away, flashing him a 'i'll be back smile,' and disappearing momentarily into the midst of the forest. She had smelled something, fruity in the distance, perhaps.. She could find what she was looking for to prevent an infection.

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She left—

And he remained.

Laid, on his stomach and chest. He shuffled; his back legs splayed beneath him. His paw beneath his chest.

His head against the ground and the grass and the dirt.

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There were still poppy seeds, stuck in his gum.

He licked and smacked.

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She returned, but not without something in her maw. A branch hung, with berries that clung to ; particularly blueberries, that were growing deep within the Winterheart forest. A land she rightfully entered would always grant her what was needed, to the poppies and now to the blueberries that seemed eerily out of season, but this land held it's own strangeness, that she thought nothing of it — perhaps was just a late bloomer, of growing.

"They are quite tasty," she said nothing on their abilities to help prevent infection. Miriam didn't think it was wrong to not say, and but a minor twist to allow himself to heal — just by remaining silent, on the proper properties. She wasn't sure if he'd eat them otherwise.. It was all for the sake of helping the sandman, who seemed quite stubborn within his ways.

She dropped the branch in front of him, smiling, expecting Daighre to eat them.

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Berries.

Small and blue and round. All in the bundle, at the end of a branch.

He fucking snorted. Rolled his eyes.

And ate them.

They were sweet and sour and tart, on his tongue.

They popped between his teeth. Awkward, between canines and incisors and molars.

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There was a breath of relief, a soundless way he simply followed through and ate so. The flesh of purple dripping lightly on his maw, for blueberries were quite strange, on the outside of one color but the inside of another — delicious, all the same, and all the more helpful, "they can quite help your health," she finally said, perhaps a guiding that though he wanted of no help.. Maybe the Sandman could do it himself, small ways to insure his own safety, "they help open wounds," open ulcers, as she smiled by this.

Ah.. Although there is sometimes the side effect, for sometimes too many was like a laxative. But Miriam thought she gave enough that it wouldn't cause that.

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The berries gone.

The stick—branch—between his teeth.

He chewed and gnawed. The wood, soft and green inside his jaws. Pushed back between his molars. His paws held it down.

‘They help open wounds,’

He grunted.

Inane fucking bullshit. She hovered, insecure, like baited breath. Incapable of doing nothing, yet incapable of deciding.

Puttering.

He wanted to sleep.

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He didn't protest, and now gnawed on the branch — Miriam wasn't sure why as she imagined it hurt, but wasn't going to attempt to stop him, knowing quite well at this point ; it'd be a futile effort. Or it had meant the poppy seeds were coming in effect, the pain minimal and she was pleased, smiling like so thinking of just able to help, just a bit.

It seemed the Goddess truly did bring the sandman to her, in order to achieve some-sort of help. Winterheart Forest was a realm that held magic deep in the breath, and she could feel it in her core as she sat down nearby, and simply inhaled of what was the atmosphere. A silence, would fall upon the two, until a departing within hours of a time later. She felt to sit within the enlighten just a bit more, to see if the magic of this primordial realm, offered anything else.

But it seems the sandman was all that there was.

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