“Be patient, Roshanar. Don’t twist it, just let it… there. Good.”Thorm Skychaser nodded in approval, his graying beard hiding a proud smile as the afternoon wind tossed it about. The young, dark-furred tauren the shaman was watching grunted as he released his concentration, carefully placing the newly plucked petals into a glass vial. “I think that’s all of them, father. “Thorm nodded. “Yes. This should be enough to last for the month, provided we can get them properly stored quickly. Let’s go find your brother and head back to the camp, it’s getting on towards dusk.”Roshanar grinned, handing his father the vial of harvested herbs as they began making their way over the hill. “Think they’ll let me cook those fish I caught for dinner? Makewa showed me how she does it, and I’d love to try.”