"This one does, yes," they rumble, laughing a bit. "For the Companions, as well as alone."

Oh! Well, that explains it. 

"I didn't realise you were a Companion," he admits, "We must have just never run into each other; I've been staying with the Companions when I'm in Whiterun." 

"This one is often rather far afield, unfortunately. It would not be strange, if we had never seen each other."

The elder approaches them again, a younger, larger wolf in his wake. Camoraan confers with them for a moment, and then peers up at Tasha'es. 

 They are willing to listen. They say, They will send scouts to examine the territory you suggest. If it is satisfactory, they will return to collect the rest of the pack. 

The wolves return to the cave, and Camoraan leaps up onto Gaemir's shoulders, the better to examine his new friend.

Your gods had good taste, They say, eyeing the other's appearance. 

They laugh. "Thanks."

They purr, nudge Gaemir with their nose, and then vanish. 

A pair of wolves stalk out of the cave and then lope off in the direction of the new territory.

"Well," Gaemir says, stretching out a crick in his back, "Back to Whiterun for me, I think. I need to stock up on healing potions, since I used all of mine." 

They nod. "This one needs to let the Companions know about the mission, as well. And this one does have some talent with alchemy, if you would like a less marked up source for potions."

"That would be great! What potions do you make?" 

And they'll talk potions on the way back to Jorrvaskr.

Tasha'es mostly makes healing sorts of potions - stamina and health and disease and poison cures (they make the most disease cures) - but has an at least theoretical knowledge of most things possible to make with ingredients native to Skyrim.

They'll leave Gaemir to find his own friends in the main hall of Jorrvaskr while they report their mission's completion, though they do note they'll be right back for actual relaying of potions.

One of Gaemir's friends is in the hall when he comes in. He wanders over when Tasha'es leaves. 

She looks up when he gets near her, "You're back late," she comments. It's already getting dark, "Or early," she adds. He's usually either out all night or back within hours. 

"I, uh, ran into some trouble while I was out. One of your fellows saved me, so I ended up helping them with their mission." 

She snorts, "Who should I be thanking for saving your ass?" 

"This one!" Tasha'es says, cheerfully, emerging from the lower level.

"Silver!" She greets, standing from her bench, "What did he get into this time? At this rate the Companions ought to have a standing mission to go rescue you," she adds to Gaemir, before turning back to the khajiit, "That's how I met him, too, you see!" 

They laugh. "You should tell this one more stories like that, hm? This one hadn't recognized him at all! And the trouble seemed to have been venomfang skeevers."

She turns back towards him, her eyes lighting up with mirth, "Skeevers?!" 

"Hordes of them! Venomous ones! They're a menace!"

She's too busy laughing to hear his excuses.

She calms down after a bit and waves Silver over to their table, "Come, sit with us! I'll regale you with more tales of his misfortune!" 

"That seems enjoyable," they purr, heading over.

So she engages them in the epic tale of her first meeting with Gaemir! It involves a quest for a sword, an old cottage full of bandits, and an idiot in over his head!

"-and then, would you believe it, it turns out the sword wasn't even in the bandits' hide out - they'd lost it in a cave not a ten minute walk from Whiterun's gates, so we had to go there and deal with the infestation of frostbite spiders! And then it turns out the whole reason he went out to find the sword was so he could use the reward to pay for a wedding ring he didn't even remember buying, so he could find out who the bride he didn't remember meeting even was, and of course I couldn't just leave him there, so-"

She goes on for a while. There's a lot to tell. 

Gaemir pipes up with details wherever she forgets them, but is happy to let her tell the tale while he pretends to drown his sorrows in ale. 

Tasha'es listens, mirthfully, laughing at all the appropriate moments.