wildflower and barley

It had taken weeks to find the perfect little hillock in the ravine. More of an odd outcropping of sod and stone set into the side of the ravine, loosely surrounded by a thicket of tangled undergrowth and mossy trees. He'd been devoting most of the daylight hours for the past week or so to digging out the pebble riddled soil from beneath the thick layer of rootbound soil that would form the ceiling of his den. His claws looked like absolute hell, and his paws were covered in old wounds from sharp stones or errant twigs ripping into him while he hollowed the space out. It was still a work in progress, but he'd been able to stay the night in his own den.

You know what that means! Time to get the garden started. His wispy tail wagged idly behind him while he paced around in circles within the little clearing, planning out where he wanted his plants to go for the season. He was hoping for a few useful herbs to be at hand, and even a few edible varieties for his incoming collection of creatures. A few harvested plants were trussed up like holiday hams outside the den, having been kept hostage overnight while he slept. Once he had a vague idea of where he wanted to put everything, he wandered over to his plants to inspect them. There were some dying leaves, and a few of them were quite wilted, but he trusted himself to bring them back to good shape.

"Nimbus"