EAT, SWIM, FLY | searching for herbs

[SILVERSMOKE]

Fireflyglow was going to need the herbs. When the clan faced hunger and foxes that wore ThunderClan faces, Silversmoke could not trespass himself in revenge, he could only prepare the clan for the inevitable - for the sickness that would come from the selfishness of the other clans. With the Twolegplace as a dark backdrop, the tom traipsed through the undergrowth, eyeing the rest of his patrol members with a weary look. It was a distracted stare, one that did not quite translate to 'I don't know if I will see my kittens', but he hoped some modicum of worry translated. Try as he might, he could not become keen enough to share words with his clanmates at that moment.

Luckily, StarClan gave him an excuse not to talk.

A sharp smell pierced the large tom's attention. Whipping his head around, Silversmoke pulled at something once hidden away by SkyClan's withering underbrush until it was pulled out by its root. A small, purple flower sat atop a green-stemmed plant, his nostrils flaring at the unusual aroma of it. Though he could not tell a dandelion from a holly berry when it came to healing properties, there was one rule that being in the medicine den had taught him - things that smelled usually had some medical use (unless it was a cat. Smelly cats often were a medical cause moreso than a medical use).

A ghost of a smile apparated upon his muzzle, a brief rush of excitement from his find stifled with an awkward clear of the throat the moment he turned to the rest of his patrol. "Find anything?" Silversmoke asked no one in particular.

// rolled a 19 -- +3 (rare respiratory treatment)
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[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

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"The prey may not be running, but the herbs have somehow managed to stay alive." noted the chimera as he reappeared, a bundle of herbs settled at his own paws as he sat to wait for the rest of the patrol to gather back up.

He couldn't remember a time when he'd missed so many catches in a row-- not since his damn apprenticeship, and even *then* he wasn't known for being one to fumble often. Hunting, fighting, and climbing were the best skills he had to offer, and it irked him whenever he fell short of one, testing his patience.

At the very least he'd be able to hand something over to the clan today, unlike every other hunting patrol he'd gone out on since the start of the frost. Nesting materials and herbs? He could fid them no problem, but ask him to find his mate a squirrel and he'd feel the urge to claw his own ears off from his own inadequacy.

ooc// rolled a 13, +2!

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skyclan - male - 31 months (Feb 17th) - Twitchbolts mate - a very tall, muscular chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

 

[Howlfire]

"It's a good job you two have managed to find things!" Howlfire quipped, as she stepped out to join Silversmoke and Quillstrike. She had been eager to help Silversmoke potentially find some herbs, knowing it seemed increasingly likely Fireflyglow would need the supplies in the coming weeks, what with how bad the weather had been getting. With colder weather and slim pickings when it came to prey already, Howlfire was not looking forward to enduring this leafbare.

"I'll probably have a look further ahead," Howlfire said after a moment. "I did find some leaves that I swear I've seen in Fireflyglow's den before, but they looked too crumpled and withered to be any of use." The lead warrior lets out a little huff, annoyed at not finding any useful herbs and the fact that all the time spent with her brother hadn't made her more adept at spotting herbs. "Hopefully, we can bring something back of use..."

/ rolled a 1...​

 

[SANGRIAFLAME]

✧ This weather… She hates it. It's stupid and cold and everything sucks. And she's still an apprentice, which is an even worse fate than being cold. Sangriapaw kicks at the dirt as she walks, a jagged frown etched onto her face—it's permanently stuck there, she thinks. Nothing has gone right, everything sucks, and now she's out searching for herbs when she should be curled up nice and cozy at home. She wonders, briefly, what Coffeepaw is doing. Is he huddled up somewhere warm? Or is he also out trekking through the forest, freezing his tail off?

Wherever Coffeepaw is, surely it's better than where she is. The cinnamon torbie pads along after stinky Silversmoke, searching for stinky herbs.

Green eyes catch on a green plant, and the apprentice darts over to inspect it. Definitely herb-y and gross. Fireflyglow will love it, for sure. "Found somethin'," she calls to the rest of the patrol before biting off the plant at its stem. Maybe she wasn't supposed to do that, but proper herb handling isn't the first thing on her mind. The girl trots over to the rest of the patrol, showing off her find. Poor Howlfire didn't find anything—maybe Sangriapaw should share some of hers with the lead warrior, she thinks.

can’t stop us ♫˚.⋆⭒ gliding down the rainbow

• ooc: rolled a 13 (2 points)
  mentor tag @Orangestar
• 
• SANGRIAPAW ❯❯ she/her, daylight apprentice of skyclan
  ⭃ wild-furred cinnamon torbie with white spotting and vibrant leaf-green eyes. bold, bright, and curious.
  ⭃ daughter of fantastream & figfeather ; sister to coffeepaw
  ⭃ mentored by orangestar
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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[CHRYSALISWING]

"There's nothing here." Chrysaliswing rumbled in evident frustration as he dug through the foliage, claws like some sort of diligent burrowing animal, though boring through the fallen leaves yielded nothing to speak of. No matter how much his paws pushed to the hardened dirt, there lie no pungent scent of herbs nor bowed floret to pluck. He didn't know how Fireflyglow and the others did it, how they could rustle through the mire and pick at something that would save someone's life. It was not his calling, apparently... Keen ears flicked as triumph rose through the patrol, as though they had become witness to some bountiful harvest of spuds and sprouts alike, spading through fortune unlike the despondent and despaired. Quillstrike, Silversmoke, and Sangriapaw had all found something, so why couldn't he? With an upstart snarl, he slammed his paw onto the ground, as if his ire would uproot what he sought. Nature did not listen to its subject's fury, for it far outweighed and outnumbered him in its sheer totality. "Everything's been bitten by the frost." He muttered somewhat to his own ears. The chimaeric tomcat padded off, as though in search for greater verdure within the masses of dull and brittle husks, clawing his way to idyll from the meager earth. Besides, he didn't want to be present for when more cats would inevitably celebrate their successes. Damn you all. I hope your herbs wither and die. And he, along with them.

𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 ⚠︎ 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦

• OOC: Rolled a 3 and got nothing! 0 points. also ic opinions wheee
• 
• 

  —— CHRYSALISWING / He/They / 31 Moons
  —— Warrior of Skyclan / Mentoring Weaselpaw
  —— A long-haired tomcat with chimaeric patterning. His left side is fully black and his right side is black splotched with sunset-orange. He has complete heterochromia, with his right eye being a bright green and his left eye being a glowering yellow.
  —— Abrasive, temperamental, and critical. Approach at your own risk and engage at your own cost. Despite this, he is a hard worker and quick to call out what he finds wrong.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

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[LIONPAW]

The cold was settling in quickly. Crystals of frost stuck to the apprentice's pads and the tips of his fur, his ears pinned back as the temperatures threatened to freeze them right off. Lionpaw had never experienced anything like this before; it took every ounce of effort in his body to resist the urge to curl up tightly in his nest and take shelter from bitter gales until leafbare passed entirely. However, Lionpaw knew that his clan needed him. If he was to be a warrior soon, he would have to sacrifice comfort. Bellies had to be filled, as coughs needed to be treated.

Lionpaw thought that, after growing up with Fireflyglow as a brother, he would know a thing or two about scouting for herbs. He supposed that he had overestimated himself; he could not pick up a single scent at the moment. The frost was making it difficult to decipher which flora were useful and which weren't. He huffs through his nostrils, seemingly padding around in circles with no success.

The chocolate torbie point does not visibly vent his frustrations like Chrysaliswing, though he does emphasize with feelings of disappointment. Why had he come up empty-pawed while his peer, Sangriapaw, had hit a stroke of luck? Lionpaw could not help but eye the cinnamon torbie enviously as she harvested the herb.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

• roll: 2 ( nothing )

• 

• 

  — lionpaw / 10 moons / he/they pronouns
  — skyclan apprentice / mentored by crowsight
  — doeblaze x blazestar / hover for immediate kin
  — lh chocolate torbie point w/ blue eyes, diagonal scar across face
  — click for full tags

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[BLOOMFUR]

bloomfur wandered. since the secret patrol to thunderclan came up empty, she wasn't too optimistic upon finding any prey. she couldn't waste time in camp, anyways, so she agreed to going with silversmoke's patrol. spirits were low and uncomfortable, with bloomfur beginning to worry that everyone would begin to turn on each other. she's thankful for howlfire's words of positivity, but she thinks it's already been soured by chrysaliswing's wild snarl. the molly's tufted ears lower, glancing between the bitter expressions of her patrol mates.

"we'll find more stuff… it's easy, 'cause this stuff is like, really smelly?" she encourages, trotting off towards a tree she didn't think anyone checked out yet. peering at the branches, she could faintly spot the woven threads of cobweb. untouched by frost, she reaches a paw to gingerly swipe at it. "like this… thing!" she chirps.

rolled a 11 +1 cobweb

❀

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[Orangestar]

"Good work." Orangestar acknowledges Sangriapaw with a glance of approval, gaze flicking over the apprentice and her meagre haul. A part of her doesn't quite register the tortoiseshell as her apprentice yet, the handover too fresh for Orangestar to truly know the molly's capabilities, but despite her outburst after the meeting she had so far proven herself a dutiful - if vocal - apprentice.

Her own search, however, has brought her nothing. She isn't too particularly bothered by her empty paws, content in the fact that she and Fireflyglow had managed to gather a useful amount of herbs in recent memory.

Her meow of "Nothing here," is significantly less venomous than Chrysaliswing's, though it sounds as if their patrol has had mixed results.

// rolled a 5 (sweet fuck all<3)​

 

[EMBERFALL]

Herb patrols weren't something she commonly did or ever did before. She'd been on patrols with Fireflyglow or Dawnglare, where they were escorted on herb patrols, but she never searched for the herbs herself. A vibrant gaze flick over as she splits off slightly from her group before coming across a foreign plant that was braving the frost. Emberfall's whiskers flick as she sniffs the surviving plant before coming to a hopeful assumption that this was indeed a useful herb for their medicine cat. " Is this worth something? " the cinnamon smoke inquires as she makes her way back with her find in tow.

Hopefully, this was better than nothing. How embarrassing would it be if it was just some weeds? It had a strange smell similar to the herbs in the medicine den, so she was just going on gut feeling.

Rolled a 17 for 2 points ; found fever treatment.

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[LIGHTNINGHAZE]

Statichaze prowls the frost-bitten undergrowth, her paws crunching lightly on the hardened ground as she combs through the barren landscape. The frost glitters like stars caught on the dead foliage, a fleeting beauty she barely acknowledges. The chill bites at her whiskers, her breath curling in faint clouds. It's practical to collect herbs; they are likely to be necessary in the harsh months to come, especially with such a difficult start to the cold weather. Her sharp yellow gaze catches movement ahead, and she slows her pace. The frost clings to every surface, but in the midst of it, a flash of color stands out—a stubborn marigold plant, wilting but alive. The vibrant orange petals peek through the silver frost, a strange resilience in the face of the biting cold. Statichaze pauses, her dark fur bristling against the icy breeze, and leans in close, inspecting it carefully.

Her mind whirs, cataloging its potential use. She knows enough about herbs to understand the plant's value—good for wounds, infection. The frost is not kind to the marigold; the stems are brittle, and the petals feel soft, fragile. She shifts her weight and begins carefully harvesting it with her claws, cutting away what remains usable. When she straightens, the marigold stems dangle from her jaws. The frost burns at her nose, but she ignores it, her thoughts already spinning. This patch likely won't yield more before the cold fully claims it. Still, she considers the plant a victory—one small defiance against the harsh season. Statichaze steps back toward the patrol's path, marigold in tow. As she approaches, her ears catch Silversmoke's question. She speaks around the stems in her jaws. "Marigold. Barely alive, but it'll do." Her gaze meets someone's for only a moment before flicking away.

[ rolled an 18 for 2 points ]​