[ She'll pass a glance of somber acknowledgment for Clara's consolation. It was long ago now, and there's no reason to talk about it. She understands that Clara has known loss, though, and there's almost a sad smile of appreciation before moving on.

She clutches her skirts in one hand whenever she's forced to take larger steps. ]

I know plants, but I have no skill at growing them. I suppose that most of what I've learned tends to favor the value in something's death. There is always something beyond its initial purpose.

[ Is she talking about drying herbs, or something else? It's anyone's guess, going by her cryptic expression when responding. Any hint of an earlier smile is gone and her pale gaze is only focused on their surroundings and where they're next headed. ]