[Taming] - Not Quite an Olive Branch

It was a long flight back to Thyme's tavern, but eventually, Weaver returned with a bundle of wheat in tow. "Here's the wheat you asked for," he called, seemingly still a little rattled from earlier. "Everything okay? You sound pretty winded."
"...While I was on my way back to you, a Memora suddenly rushed out of the bushes after me! I'm lucky I was able to get away without getting stung..."
"A Memora, you say?" Thyme chuckled. "It could've been trying to get you out of its territory, but on the other hand, it could've just been chasing you around to burn off some extra energy."
"You think so?" Weaver scratched behind his head nervously. "I dunno, it seemed pretty angry while it was chasing me... I'm lucky I got what I needed back there, but if I run into that one again, there might be trouble... don't you think?"
"I have an idea." Thyme rummaged behind his shop counter for a second... just to pull out a sprig of mint. "If you ever come across that Memora again, try giving it this. Memoras love this stuff!"
Weaver nervously took the mint, and left some seashells on the counter--just in case. "Thank you, I'll... keep this in mind."

...Despite his better judgement, Weaver did return to the forest, trying to find his way back to where he encountered that Memora. It surprisingly didn't take him long to find it, prowling around in search of food. The moment they caught sight of each other, he scrambled up the nearest tree... and tried to remember what Thyme had told him. The Memora, meanwhile... could it smell the mint on him? It didn't seem hostile this time, only curious. Carefully, he extended a paw, the sprig held tightly between his claws. "Do... you want this? E-easy now, those are some sharp stingers you've got..."
...It did seem interested. Very interested. In fact, at the sight of the mint, it sat up on its haunches, chattering and reaching forward with its own paws. For a moment, Weaver seemed to regain some confidence. Was it really this easy to befriend Memoras? Even as an Isoling, he made it a point to steer clear of them--their teeth, claws, and stingers could really do a number on an Isomara, after all! ...But just as soon as he'd thought he had things in the bag, he lost his footing, tumbling to the forest flo

...Some time later, after wandering seemingly endlessly through an inverted dream, he came to his senses, a dull ache in his head and the feeling of a small prick or two on his face. ...Yikes, is that what getting stung is like? That was... awful, but not nearly as bad as he'd heard it was. Though, while he was out... the Memora seemed to stay by his side, seemingly pacified by the mint. In seeing him come to, it chirruped, lightly batting at his muzzle. "...Have you been here this whole time? I would've figured you'd have ran off after I fell on you!" It tilted its head. "...Are we friends?" He reached up, just to mildly spook as the Memora headbutted his paw, purring. Looks like that's as close to a yes as it could ever be. "...I guess we both got each other, then..." He paused to think of a name. "...Mmmatcha? That seems like it has a nice ring to it." It's purring. "...Matcha it is! C'mon, then, let's head back to the jungle."