The grouse could not be helped, for it seemed to dance along before him, as though to tempt him. Even when he turned his back on the creature, it circled about, fluttering its wings and undermining his resolve—not unlike Lianae. He tried his best to ignore the promise of her lips, the taste of her mouth, but in the end, he realized he was weak. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of its emptiness, and he reared back his bow, let loose the arrow, and in the end, the grouse lay skewered for the taking. And yet, despite his hunger for actual food, all he could think about was the taste of Lianae’s mouth. She was a distraction to be sure. He’d asked her to pick and carry back a hem full of berries. Whilst Wee Alick and Donal skinned, gutted and cooked the spoils of their hunt, Keane brewed a bit of tea. Like the rowan berries, whitebeam could have an adverse effect if too many were eaten fresh, but once the seeds were plucked and the bletted fruit was boiled, the bitters produced would quickly settle the stomach.
