Concerning Mint and Druids
07-31-2013, 08:27 AM
Cut me loose
My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle
"Red clover!" gasped Orica. "Thanks, Cross!" A delicate, long-legged creature came cantering out of the shades of the woods into the clearing that sat in the curves a hill banking the lakeside. She had eyes the color blue glass, and a pelt with all the color of piano keys. As the monochrome fairy brushed past her cousin, she gave him a quick lick on the cheek and bounded down the grass knoll. There, covering the hill like a blanket was a great patch of clover that, in some places grew so thick and tall that it brushed her belly fur. It was undisturbed beauty. Well undisturbed except for the bumbly bees. She'd have to watch out for those. The great carpet was dotted with rich purple blossoms, that Orica began to immeidately snap up and place into the old leather knapsack around her shoulder. "I could never figure out why they're called 'red clover' when they're purple." she said to Cross through the mouthfulls of leaves. "But they're very sweet and very good. Not only are they can emergency source of protein, but if you put them on a wound they act as inflama- inflamalama- anifloh- influmala-" she spit a quick raspberry. "They make the swelling go down!" She shook her head and kept snatching at the blossoms. "There I think that's enough. I want to save room for the other southern herbs we might find. Maybe there'll be more plants of the clover family around. I could really use some more woodsorrel!" But it was then she noticed how stiff and alert her white cousin had become. "Cross, what is it? Do you smell something coming?" |