Post by Mousenose on Jul 17, 2013 23:06:58 GMT
With Leaf-Fall already here and Leafbare soon to be on the way, Mousenose there was one herb he absolutely had to have: catmint. Whitecough could lead to greencough, and that was one of the forest’s most infamous killers; one you couldn’t fight with claw and fang. Fortunately, catmint was best found during this time of year, but it was far from camp.
He trotted out of camp, calling over his shoulder to one of the warriors that he’d be back shortly. No need to explain himself; not that he’d expect warriors to know the duties of a medicine cat. They had their own duties to focus on and Mousenose was more than happy to leave them to it.
A variety of scents assaulted his pink nose along the way: rabbit, dry grass, a hint of stony earth that blew down from Highstones, but the most worrying was the smell of water. The medicine cat wasn’t near the gorge, and that meant rain was on the way.
By the time he reached the tall wooden stakes that confined the horses and cows on the twoleg farm it started to drizzle. Mousenose’s short fur stuck to his skin, emphasizing the bony frame of his skeleton. The tom sighed quietly to himself. Wet herbs were lousy herbs; he had hoped that the warmth of sunhigh would have dried them, but all hope of that was gone now. He wondered how Snowberry did it, keeping his herbs dry with all the rivers and streams about on his territory.
Still his trip was not pointless, though now it was more of a formality than anything else. Spying a clump of the sweet-smelling herb, he padded over to it, careful to avoid crossing onto the farm. Mousenose examined its foliage carefully. The leaves that were once tiny and bright green were now darker and fuller: a sign of a well-growing plant. Even better, he wouldn’t have to rely solely on the other medicine cats to replenish his own store of the life-saving herb.
He trotted out of camp, calling over his shoulder to one of the warriors that he’d be back shortly. No need to explain himself; not that he’d expect warriors to know the duties of a medicine cat. They had their own duties to focus on and Mousenose was more than happy to leave them to it.
A variety of scents assaulted his pink nose along the way: rabbit, dry grass, a hint of stony earth that blew down from Highstones, but the most worrying was the smell of water. The medicine cat wasn’t near the gorge, and that meant rain was on the way.
By the time he reached the tall wooden stakes that confined the horses and cows on the twoleg farm it started to drizzle. Mousenose’s short fur stuck to his skin, emphasizing the bony frame of his skeleton. The tom sighed quietly to himself. Wet herbs were lousy herbs; he had hoped that the warmth of sunhigh would have dried them, but all hope of that was gone now. He wondered how Snowberry did it, keeping his herbs dry with all the rivers and streams about on his territory.
Still his trip was not pointless, though now it was more of a formality than anything else. Spying a clump of the sweet-smelling herb, he padded over to it, careful to avoid crossing onto the farm. Mousenose examined its foliage carefully. The leaves that were once tiny and bright green were now darker and fuller: a sign of a well-growing plant. Even better, he wouldn’t have to rely solely on the other medicine cats to replenish his own store of the life-saving herb.
