⁰² ɴᴏ ᴍᴀɴ's ʟᴀɴᴅ

While most wolves avoided the mountains, saying that the ominous fog that lingered around them was cursed, Yunho knew that before the legends existed that rare herbs supposedly grew there. While his father had been an accomplished hunter and defender of the pack, his mother had been a skilled apothecary and he remembered her venturing into the mountains when he was younger to acquire certain herbs for treatments. Yet since the purge that drove those mad dogs off to the peaks, no one dared to venture into the misty unknown, fearing that their howling ghosts were waiting to get revenge. Religious he might be, but superstition was another thing entirely. All he had to do was keep a keen ear to the wind and listen carefully while he gathered, then he'd be back before anyone even noticed his absence. Crouching down by a bit of green moss that grew on the side of a rock, he carefully picked at the flowers blooming off it and put them into a small pouch that dangled from his side. They were good for making tinctures to sooth the nerves.

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