Open Backwritten Territory ShadowClan im a loser baby so why dont you kill me? ☾.⭒ — herb search

[Fleapaw]

-

// Canonically sometime in late May

A small shape pushed her through the marsh with a determined huff, treading through the mud with practiced paws. She ducked under claw of brambles and stopped in a small clearing near the water. The sun was little more than a dull smear behind clouds, casting everything in that miserable, flat light that made depth hard to judge and colors dull as wet paper. She was fresh and determined, ready to find some green crap to give Cicadabuzz. Although if she learned anything from her previous trials, that wasn't to last long.

She pawed her way toward a shallow patch of grass, sniffing intently at a sprig of green poking through a knot of moss. Her ears perked. The leaves were broad and crown-shaped, but it wasn't more than a string of ivy. Fleapaw sighs, shuffling ahead with wide sweeps.

Anyone can help (I desperately welcome it), but I may mull you over with posts since Fleapaw has alot of debt left to repay and I'd like to start chipping at that.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Ten minutes later and Fleapaw's legs were soaked to the knee in bog water. She grimaced as she tried to shake some of the muck from her paw, only to splatter it across her foreleg instead. As expected these damn herbs werent going to be an easy find. Yeah, she was learning a little from Magpiepaw and Cicadabuzz when she did bring stuff back, but not enough to help her actually find anything by herself, apparently. She shuffled through the shallows of a pond, hoping some plant had nestled near the boggy edges of the water. But all she found was a crushed snail and some kind of pungent mushroom that made her recoil instantly.

"This sucks so baaaad!" She groaned, kicking at a rock and cringing at the pain of her paw jarring against its edge. The stone skittered away and splashed into the water with a plop.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 1 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Bugs buzzed about her face, adding to her irritation. Fleapaw snapped her jaws at one near her ear, then again when it tried to land on her eyes. Her head jerked around, jaws snapping together, water sloshing at her paws. "Piss off dammit, I'm busy!" She snarled, swiping at the air with feral paws. She was going to lose her mind. Not a single useful plant so far, not even anything that even looked useful. Just weeds and mold and mushrooms and bugs.

She stomped forward, shoving past a fallen log and sticking her head into the hollow beneath it—nothing but rot and a toad that she evicted with a sharp flick of her paw.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

By now, Fleapaw wasn't even pretending to search smart. She was just stomping through the marsh in wide spirals, eyes darting across the ground and skimming over every rock, stick, and leaf. Stage one of the slow descent into madness that she usually went through every time she searched.

She paused beside a tangle of roots and gave them a long squint. "You know what'd be real funny?" Flea said to no one in particular. "If I found some deathberries and just ate the wholeeeee bush. Real tragic. Bet everyone would cry." Fleapaw let out a sharp bark of a laugh before crouching. These roots were nothing, but she sniffed them anyway. A bunch of earthy somethings, but what she didn't know.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Fleapaw moved away from the roots and continued her sift along the water. She puffed at another bug, swatting absentmindedly with her eyes focused along the bank.

A patch of green caught her eye and she trudged forward, nearly stumbling as she rushed toward it. Fleapaw gently poked one of its leaves, head tilting as she scrutinized its shape. The leaves were crumpled and leafy? It kind of looked like something Cicadabuzz might use. After a few seconds she shrugged, pulled it from the loose soil, and tossed it upon a dryer patch of ground.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

She moved out of the water, flicking gunk off her legs. Fleapaw huffed through her nose and swept her gaze along the drier parts of the area she chose... not that any part of it was all that dry.

Her eyes snagged on something pale poking out from a split in the roots of a nearby bush. She padded over and studied—it was fibrous, soft-looking, and covered in a flaky outer layer. She had no clue what it was, but it peeled kind of like bark, and seemed herb-like. Fleapaw bent down, carefully dragging the strip free with her teeth. She dropped it into her pile but gawked at it for a long while. Now that she was gettin' a good look it kind of looked like a stick... or bark? It totally was a fucking stick. "Dammit..." She sighed loudly, snatching the thing up and flinging it.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 1 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Fleapaw left her meager pile to continue the search. She eyeballed a tangle of something that had grown over a crooked stump, sharp spines jutting out at her. Something about the serrated leaves made her pause—there was a bunch of berries tucked in the middle. She frowned and reached up, giving the bush a shake. Its thorns jabbed into her paw, but a few berries tumbled free. Fleapaw winced and jammed her paw into her mouth until the sting subsided.

They looked... tasty? She wasn't stupid enough to eat them but maybe they had some kind of use? She sniffed them cautiously—sweet—some tinged with sour. She gave the bush a parting glance, half-hoping something more familiar would grow in its place, but no luck, not for her.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 1 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Fleapaw stooped to collect the scattered berries, careful not to squish them too much this time. She delicately rolled them into her pile paw and set them beside her other findings, giving them a wary glance. She supposed even if they were poisonous, Cicadabuzz would keep them. The real problem was how to get them back to camp without crushing them.

She gave her pile a last look before turning again, paws carrying her toward a more barren cluster. The ground was spongy and damp, the perfect conditions for the mushrooms there. She noticed a few white ones arranged in a near-perfect circle. Weird... but not anything useful.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good

 

[Tickpaw Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

Tickpaw had once more stepped out beside his sister, watching her as she worked, frantic, twitchy, and far too thin. He hated seeing her like this. The debt she owed Cicadabuzz clung to her like burrs in her fur, driving her deeper into something he couldn't reach. Cicadabuzz... Their medicine cat was an odd one. Quiet. Strange. Kind, in that unsettling way that made Tickpaw wonder what they wanted. But they kept ShadowClan alive, and that had to count for something. Right? Still, watching Fleapaw unravel beneath the weight of what she owed, it twisted something in his chest. He couldn't stand it. She scuffled around ahead of him, weeds flying, eyes a little too wide. Tickpaw swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and turned away. If he couldn't stop her, he could at least help. Maybe that would be enough.

The young tom padded through the undergrowth, jaws tight. The forest pressed in, shadows stretching like claws between the brambles. He shoved aside a fern with more force than necessary, sniffed the ground, and scowled. Nothing... His tail lashed once, twice, then stilled. He crouched beside a patch of moss, sniffed again, and hissed under his breath. Not catmint. Not anything useful. Just rot and dirt. Fleapaw's voice echoed faintly in his head, You don't have to help. I can do this. As if he'd let her wander out here alone, picking through leaf litter for herbs she barely recognized. As if he'd let her owe anything to anyone. He just wanted to find something, anything, to take the weight off her shoulders.

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roll 1d3: 3 failure

 

[Tickpaw Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

But the forest stayed silent. Empty. With a low growl, Tickpaw turned and kept walking. His pawsteps were silent, practiced. He moved like a shadow through the brush, eyes narrowed and ears flicking at every crackle of leaf or snap of twig. He hated this part, the stillness, the waiting. It made him feel exposed. But Fleapaw needed this. So he searched. His nose twitched, something sharp and earthy hit the back of his throat. He crouched, shoved aside a clump of damp bracken, and there it was: dock. Broad, rubbery leaves. " Finally... " he muttered, biting off a mouthful and spitting dirt from his tongue. He bundled the leaves with quick, stiff paws, tucking them into the leaf wrap he'd clumsily tied together with dry grass earlier.

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roll 1d3: 2 success
dock

 

[Tickpaw Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

He kept going, pressing his nose into the leaf litter. Sniffed. Paused. Nothing. Just brittle stems and the sour stink of wet soil. He scraped at the ground with a paw, more out of spite than hope. Still nothing. With a low, bitter growl, he turned away. Wasted time again. He didn't look back. He was kind of starting to understand how his sister slowly lost her mind trying to find all the stuff that Cicadabuzz wanted... Anyone would get a bit... Coocoo, he supposed. But he wouldn't falter. He wouldn't stop searching for these damn herbs for his sister. If he looked for them enough, surely he would find some... It succeeded once, it could work again! With a huff and a snort, he marched onward, determination clear upon his face. Though he had found nothing, the next time he definitely would.

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

roll 1d3: 1 failure

 

[Tickpaw Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

The earth softened beneath his paws as he pressed deeper into the forest. The scent of rain still clung to the ground. Something in this place had to catch his interest... Something had to... Stand out... Then his orange hues fell upon a certain purple hue... Purple... Pale purple blooms were what caught his eyes, low and thick-stemmed, comfrey. He didn't know what it was good for, exactly, but Cicadabuzz had mentioned it. Tickpaw just remembered... They were for something... Something useful, atleast... But he couldn't exactly remember what it was again. With a snort, he bent and dug the roots free from the earth. A bit of shaking the dirt off his claws and he was off once more. Almost done... Then he could find Fleapaw, show her what he had found. Hopefully it would be useful to her.

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

roll 1d3: success comfrey

 

[Tickpaw Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

It took longer to find the next herb, honestly. He had almost missed it entirely, stepped right over it, until the familiar jagged leaves made him pause. He huffed, half in disbelief, half in relief. Bright yellow. Easy to spot if you were actually looking... But his mind, his mind had been elsewhere... Too lost in thought about all that had been happening. He tugged it free and sat back on his haunches, tail flicking. He didn't smile... Not really. But the tightness in his shoulders loosened just a little. He listened to the woods. Faint movement ahead. A voice, familiar. He perked up. Fleapaw was ahead... Best thing he could do was count his successes now and be on his way, back to her.

" Meapf--! " he called around the bundle in his mouth, ears twitching as he bounded toward the sound of her. No need to explain. She'd see what he had.

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roll 1d3: success, dandelion

 

[Fleapaw]

-

She left the mushrooms alone and veered closer to the pond again. The moss gave way to silty soil and shallow puddles, the ground squelching underpaw as she came to a halt. A patch of white flowers caught her eye near the water's edge—delicate things, with lacy petals and feathered leaves that fanned out like miniature ferns.

"Pretty... She mumbled, stretching her neck o sniff them.

The scent wasn't exactly floral—mildly bitter, earthy, and faintly sweet. Not unpleasant, just... odd. Still, they looked nice. Stoatpaw would probably like them. Fleapaw could picture them tucked into her friend's white pelt. Even if they turned out to be useless, they would make a nice gift.

Now she needed to figure out the best way of trying to collect the thing... but without knowing what the plant was, she wasn't about to chomp it. Fleapaw pawed carefully around the base, trying to dig it out. Her muddy paws churned the sloppy soil, but the plant clung stubbornly to the earth. After a while, she managed to expose a bulbous piece of root, but the whole thing still refused to budge. She huffed and with another jostle a stringy piece of stem slumped over. Fleapaw would settle for that. She gently pinched it between her teeth and carried it back to her pile.

A rustle behind her made her jump. She turned to find Tickpaw with his mouth stuffed full. Her eyes widened, and the tension in her shoulders eased immediately. She stared, slack-jawed, at the absurd bundle he'd collected. She'd told him over and over again that he didn't need to help, but he was just as much a stubborn bastard as she was. There was no making him listen, not that she cared to right now. "Damn, you really got a lot!" She said with a grin, stepping forward to take the herbs from him. Fleapaw crammed them awkwardly into her mouth and paddled over to her pile, where she stowed them. "Thanks a lot, Tick... You didn't have to, but I'm not gonna complain." She chuckled wearily. She didn't know how long she'd searched, coming up empty-pawed, but it felt like forever.

The only thing she recognized was dandelion. Still, Tickpaw didn't seem to mind talking to Cicadabuzz (why the fuck he ever would, she would never understand), so maybe he knew what the rest were. It was a lot more than she could've gathered herself, but still not nearly enough to repay what she owed. Least now she finally had something to show for all her searching. "You even know what half of those are?" Fleapaw asked before meandering off to continue looking.

Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 2 → Success → Water Hemlock

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

FLEAPAW

9 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

Until we close our eyes for good