x x You can roll a 1d6 to determine whether your character is successful in saving herbs or not. See the Discord channel #scarlets-attic for further instructions.
It's a silly thought, but Dimmingun swears he has not seen this much rain in his life. That's one pro of living alone and without responsibility—whenever the terrain or the weather had gotten too inconvenient, he had been able to move on without a second thought, and without losing anything. This time... his paws have been itching ever since the rain clouds have began to hang over the moors, almost like instinct urging him to go. It is unusual for him to stay in one place despite the circumstances. But the WindClan camp is not a portable thing; he supposes this is simply what happens when you have a place to call home. It begins to feel dangerous- threatening your peace.
His paws carry him towards the den, stalking across the camp with a deep frown on his face. It sits upon his features in sharp contrast to the lazy smile he usually wears, but it is not out of place. When there is no need to hide his displeasure, Dimmingsun doesn't shy away from letting his inner thoughts sit on the surface.
It's not like anyone can blame him for his crankiness. He has seen the disappointment seeping into patrolling warriors; the way what little prey they find seems to slip out of their grasp, or the way scent markers drift away as soon as they place them on the borders. Nobody is happy about the circumstances. Why hadn't these storms migrated already? Why don't they bother a Clan more suitable for these conditions, like RiverClan?
Dimmingsun freezes when he notices the steady trickle pouring out from the mouth of the tunnel that leads into his sanctuary. No.
"The den..."
he breathes into the air, stomach feeling heavy with foreboding. The camp has becoming less and less suitable for day-to-day life, but the medicine cat den has been giving him someplace to settle at the end of the day. Now... now he's scared of what he will find when he enters.Hesitantly, Dimmingsun enters—he grits his teeth against the cold water that he wades across, its height slowly rising as he ventures deeper.
Soon enough, the reality of the situation hits him full force.
"The medicine den is flooded!"
His yowl can surely be heard outside, full of disbelief and horror. He doesn't know why his chest seems to cave in the way that it does; it's just a stupid den. A very convenient den that he and Meadowpaw have been pouring their care into—and Gladebloom before him, too, no doubt—, but it's not like it's not replaceable. And yet... Dimmingsun hears his own heaving, mouth hanging open in an effort to let him breathe easier. The anger he feels is overwhelming.It's so immature to feel this much towards the weather. The damn weather, of all things.
Dimmingsun retraces his steps only to the entrance; only as much as necessary.
"Meadowpaw! We need to save what little herbs we still have."
He hopes she's in camp. In a way, it doesn't really matter; two cats are still precious little when facing against the elements. Still... at least she knows where everything is and what is most important, like he does. Despite how uncomfortable Dimmingsun feels in his skin, his fur getting more and more damp as he races from one crevice to another, he ignores it all. He has to bring everything outside—see the damage later.Looking for @Meadowpaw but no need to wait!
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