First Harvest
The beach was still flooded, to his dismay. At this point he considered it to be normal, like as if it had always been like that. He had gotten so used to his makeshift den and garden in the prairie that he couldn't imagine himself moving back. His meadowsweet and alfalfa collected a few days back had adjusted to the new, unfamiliar soil and were flourishing beautifully. He had to be admit, he did have a slight obsession with plants. He couldn't stand seeing any wilted leaves or petals and he usually found himself admiring them for hours on end, sometimes talking to them. Who knew, perhaps they would grow faster.
On this particular day he decided to set off and expand his temporary garden - find more friends for his herbs in other words. His earthen paws carried him through arid terrains in the harsh west. It wasn't the best place to find herbs, and he planned to head back until he found a lush moor in the distance. It was worth a look, as it was the only green he could see in miles. Lumbering over, the sky began to darken as his vision clouded. Fog, he inwardly groaned. Should've known. Determined to find something, he stumbled through the strange mist, keeping his senses alert. Looking ahead, he narrowed his bronze gaze at what seemed like a herb. Yarrow! Bounding over, he almost crashed into an alabaster male who also seemed to be approaching the herb. His claws dug into the moist soil as he abruptly halted a foot away from the other male. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologised, pulling his ears back in embarrassment. He lowered his head with the intention to tear out the herb, but after second thoughts, stopped himself. What if this male wanted to get it as well? "Did you have your eye on this?" he inquired, pulling away from the plant. They could always halve it, and if not, he was willing to search for more. |