Post by STORMFROST on Nov 13, 2016 4:45:49 GMT
the slowly thinning canopy floods the forest floor with the late afternoon sun, warming the grey pelt of a thunderclan tom. in the light, his pelt appears to be almost brown, a trick of the eye, but it helps to keep him hidden from predators with a taste for feline cuisine. his paws move deftly around a small blue flower, the stem quivering with the slightest movement. a trained eye scrutinizes the damage done by careless apprentices; petals crushed beneath heavy paws, stems snapped by swift moving bodies. frustration doesn’t begin to describe the weight on his shoulders, the unforgiving burden of being the only cat within the borders of thunder to respect the forest and its creations.
amber pools slowly close, whispering escapes his lips, audible only to the flowers for which he is thankful for. the patch is damaged, but not beyond repair. he can replant the damaged stems, hope that they take root and that his precious supply of borage will make it through leaf-bare. new-leaf would surely bring new kits to the clan, and new mothers would need the leaves to increase their production of milk. of course, he could always wait until new-leaf to harvest, but if the odd litter was born during the dead moons. . . well, it was always better to be prepared. the tom dipped his head once more, opened his eyes, and with his teeth, clipped off a few surviving leaves.
the beech leaf beside him was worrisome. he had not been able to gather as much chickweed as he had wanted, an ok substitute for the invaluable cat mint, and the two-leg garden was almost bare of the precious herb. daisy was also becoming harder to find; sunningrocks had been a wonderful place to find it but that was riverclan territory now. with the colder temperatures waiting to pounce, stormfrost knew that he had to get as much herbs to ease joint pain as possible, or the elders would be insufferable. thankfully though, he was able to find a hearty supply of fennel. the large grey tom was greatful for the small things.
with the herb-filled leaf dangling from his jaws, his keen eyes scoured the dead fall for any sign of tansy. in his mind, he could picture the tall stocks, round leaves and the bright yellow flowers, but the exact location was lost on him. stormfrost was a thorough and skilled medicine cat, but his ability to find herbs and remember where to find them was sorely lacking. the toms’ tail flicked behind him, sporadic as he tried to remember. dead fall was good for moss, but did tansy grow there as well? furrowing his brow, he placed the bundle of herbs on the ground and leapt down among the fallen trees.w: 465 | tags: open | notes:
