Closed Territory GROWING WILD ] herb hunting

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 30 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz moves like smoke through the tall reeds, their paws barely making a sound on the damp earth. Morning mist still clings to the banks of the stream, curling around their legs and trailing off behind them as they step over smooth stones and muddy tufts of grass. Dew beads on their fur and glints against the delicate stems of herbs tucked carefully into their tail—comfrey, marigold, a single sprig of dried tansy saved from last moon. They pause at the edge of a shallow dip where rainwater has collected, dark and still. Their pale green eyes scan the undergrowth with practiced precision, sweeping past =once, then twice, before they finally focus. There—tucked against a flat stone, half-concealed by a fern's drooping frond—are the thin, bristly stalks they're searching for.

Cicadabuzz steps closer, whiskers flicking forward. The horsetail is healthy, dark green and jointed, water pooling just beneath its roots. They tilt their head. "Good enough," they murmur to no one in particular. Their voice is low, dry. With careful movements, they crouch and begin to nip the stems at their base, leaving enough of the plant rooted to regrow. Their tail stills as they tuck the gathered stalks among the others. Each piece is aligned precisely, kept from bending or breaking. They pause only once to glance upward at the gray sky, nose twitching—no rain yet, but the air tastes like it's considering it. When they're finished, they sit back and give the small patch of horsetail a long, unreadable look, then rise, calm as ever, moving onwards.


Coin Flip: Heads - Success
1d7 Roll: 1 - Wound & Infection
Herb Found - Horsetail

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 30 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

The marsh fades behind Cicadabuzz as they ascend a gentle slope, paws brushing through the grasses that grow sparser where the soil begins to dry. Here, the land levels out into a wind-swept stretch of open earth scattered with sun-bleached stones and wiry undergrowth. A faint breeze tugs at the edges of their herb-laced tail, carrying the scent of warm dust, wild mint, and the ever-present tang of river silt. They move without hurry, though their gaze is always moving—watchful, methodical. The morning light has sharpened, thinning the mist and casting faint shadows across the path. Cicadabuzz's ears flick at the sound of a bird overhead, but they don't stop. Their steps are steady, carefully chosen.

It's not long before they spot a tangle of creeping vines twined around the lower branches of a sapling at the edge of the clearing. Bindweed. Its trumpet-shaped white flowers have begun to open to the sun, and the long, winding stems stretch out in all directions like curling whispers. Cicadabuzz approaches, head tilted slightly to the side. "Persistent little thing," they murmur, more observation than judgment. Their paw presses a stem gently down, testing the strength of the vine. It's healthy—too healthy, maybe. If left alone, it'll strangle the sapling beneath. They begin to work in silence, careful not to tear or crush the stems. Bindweed is fragile when dried improperly. Cicadabuzz knows exactly how much to take—enough to be useful, never enough to harm the balance. They bite through a few lengths of vine with flowers still attached and coil them neatly, winding the soft, trailing ends into a loop and sliding their head through it to carry around their neck. Then they're gone again, moving deeper into the territory, their silhouette shrinking against the tall grasses, another silent ripple through the wild green sea.


Coin Flip: Heads - Success
1d7 Roll: 3 - Broken Bones
Herb Found - Bindweed

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 30 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

The light has shifted again—later now, golden and thin. Cicadabuzz treads along the edge of a sun-warmed incline where the land flattens into a dusty field scattered with brittle weeds and sparse, sharp-smelling grass. The air here is dry and warm, carrying the hum of distant insects and the flutter of bird wings in the brush. This part of the territory feels brittle, as if it might crack underfoot—but Cicadabuzz's steps are careful, deliberate, weightless. They know this place well. Near the base of a stone outcrop, past a half-buried log where mice like to nest, lies the small patch where poppies bloom each greenleaf. It's long past their prime now. The flowers have faded to crisp brown ghosts of what they were, their bright petals lost to time and wind. What remain are the seed pods—hard, dry, and rattling faintly in the breeze.

Cicadabuzz pauses at the edge of the patch, eyeing the dried stalks with a faint tilt of their head. There's no sound but the wind and the shifting dust. Then, silently, they step forward and lower their head to one of the taller pods. A single bite—precise and clean—severs the poppy head from its stem. It falls into the grass with a soft thud. Cicadabuzz picks it up gently in their jaws, then places it on the flat of a sun-warmed stone nearby. They sit beside it and tilt it with a paw, listening to the dry seeds rattle within. Satisfied, they collect two more—just enough. They don't crush them. Not yet. Not until they're back in the den where the work is slow, quiet, and ritual. The pods are bundled carefully and tucked into their fur among the horsetail and other scattered petals and leave. The scent here is sharp and dry, edged with memory.

They remain for a moment longer, still and watchful. Their eyes flick toward the horizon as if measuring something unseen—distance, time, weather, perhaps none of these. Then, wordless and still unreadable, Cicadabuzz rises again and slips back into the grass, vanishing into wind and green.


Coin Flip: Heads - Success
1d7 Roll: 3 - Broken Bones
Herb Found - Poppy Seeds

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 30 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

The terrain begins to change again as Cicadabuzz moves on—dust giving way to dampness, dry grass thickening into clusters of thistle and dock. The land dips low here, the soil darker and richer, holding onto the last of the morning's dew. Cicadabuzz slows as the scent of earth grows heavier—cool, loamy, full of decay and life. They veer toward a familiar hollow nestled beneath a leaning elder tree, its gnarled roots clutching the slope like claws. This place is easy to overlook unless you know to look. Shaded, slightly sunken, and often too damp for much else to thrive. But this is where the burdock grows.

Broad, ragged leaves crowd low to the ground, their edges browned with age but still unmistakable. Distinctive flowers sprout above. Beneath them, buried deep, are the roots—tough-skinned and bitter, exactly what Cicadabuzz came for. They crouch low, brushing aside a layer of moss and leaf-litter to expose the base of the plant. Dirt clings stubbornly to their paws, and the air here is thick with the scent of moss, rot, and the tang of minerals. It's slow work. But Cicadabuzz never rushes. They dig with a forepaw, methodical and quiet, loosening the soil around one thick, gnarled root. It takes several moments before it gives. With a final twist of their paw and a quick snap of their jaws, they tug it free—long, knotted, and caked in mud.

The root is held up briefly for inspection. Cicadabuzz brushes some of the earth away with the flat of a claw, then nods once, satisfied. It's not the prettiest, but it will do. Two more follow, taken from separate plants to preserve the patch's health. They tuck the roots into a leaf wrap woven hastily from dock leaves, secured against them with the bindweed, which they move in order to coil it around the roots and hold them in place. Cicadabuzz straightens, brushing their paw clean against a rock. They glance once at the hollow—cool, quiet, green in the shadows—and then turn away without a word. The leaves whisper behind them as they move ever onwards.


1d7 Roll: 1 - Wound & Infection
Herb Found - Burdock Root

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 30 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

The wind shifts as Cicadabuzz moves through the undergrowth, carrying with it the faintest trace of something bright and bitter—sharp and unmistakable. They pause mid-step, ears flicking forward, and lift their head slightly to scent the air again. Yes. There it is. Marigold. They adjust their path without a sound, moving with fluid precision through a patch of ferns and brittle stalks, their paws quiet against the soft earth. This part of the territory catches more sun—warmer, drier, bordered by rocks that hold onto heat long after the sun has passed. The scent grows stronger as they approach a narrow rise where the stones break through the soil in a scatter of gray and rust-colored shapes. Nestled between them is a low-growing tangle of golden-orange flowers, their bright petals stubborn and vivid against the muted green around them.

Cicadabuzz approaches slowly, eyeing the blooms with something like distant approval. "Good," they murmur, their voice little more than a whisper. They crouch beside the patch, nose dipping close. The petals are full and open, warmed by the sun. These are good—fresh, untouched by frost or insects, the sort that will dry well. Cicadabuzz begins collecting with care, using their teeth to snip the blooms at the base and laying each one on a flat, sun-drenched stone nearby to keep them from being damaged. They select only a few from each cluster, never stripping one plant entirely. Their tail flicks in rhythm with the task. Once they've gathered enough, they begin carfully weaving them into the fur near the base of their tail. The scent clings to their fur, earthy and floral, familiar. Cicadabuzz lingers a moment longer, gaze trailing across the rest of the patch, and rise again.


1d7 Roll: 1 - Wound & Infection
Herb Found - Marigold