Nutmeg: For a drabble about my muse working or making money.
During the hours of sunlight, she ventured through the woods with basket of wicker hanging off the crook of her arm. Within it, one would find satchels filled with different seedlings that sought a new home along with bundles of freshly plucked herbs, tied with twine, and fruits were mixed together to create an aromatic medley. Whispers are made to the earth as she knelt before the trees and gathered the mushrooms, separating those of poisonous traits and those suitable for consuming - by normal beings that is. The seeds find their new homes at the foot of the gnarled roots, where blooms are encouraged to seek the surface sooner with the soft press of her calloused fingers to the soil.
Traps are dismantled as she comes across them, steel teeth that are ready to rip into flesh and muscle of unsuspecting beast. Quick work is done of them, but she makes a mental note where each and everyone of them lay.
The anxious treants, roused from possible trespassing, are approached with caution, for these archaic creatures react poorly despite her affinity to the world they belonged to. Time is spent with them with word and song, though such melody scarcely graces the ear of another as of late.
Her domain is not ignored before the sun has set ..for she tends to the seasonal harvest and the garden that unnaturally takes bloom even when the blanket of winter has descended upon them.
When night comes, however, her priorities shift on the offensive. With the rising of the moon, and under the majesty of the darkened heavens; she sheds the basket and is adorned in silks hemmed with leaves and flowers, in her hand a small pouch that contained salve for any injured fauna she finds and across her bosom the sling of her bow, a clear indication that she no longer sings a melody of welcome, but warning of those who come upon her this eve.
Under the cover of darkness she roams to find the location where the traps lay, to wait and see the ones who would defile this land. Flanked are the wolves of the wild, accustomed to finding comfort near the naked legs of the woman who leads them deep into the heart of the woods.
@reyvolution @raifenrir - thank you dear!