Post by t i e s ; on Jul 27, 2011 18:08:13 GMT -6
Ryepaw
I like it sweet, thank you little Ryepaw.
I like it sweet, thank you little Ryepaw.
A dark, plump ginger paw merely smeared over the large, nice-smelling herb, then came to a skinny, tiny little nose and the nose flared like a wild fire, having some difficulties with it, it seemed. "Coltsfoot." Snorting, the thing that pawed the colfsfoot turned around, dusting the other curled up leaves and flowers and sniffing them, grunting every time it finished. The shape revealed to be a cat, rather, Ryepaw, the apprentice to Robinfeather in AshClan. The little medicine cat apprentice was smelling and tasting herbs, trying to tell which one was which, as an exercise. Jabbing his paw further through the hidden crack, scattering little pebble-like seeds on the floor of the den. Rolling them over, licking it very slowly, a rough rasping sound of hope came through, checking it twice, nodded his head and let a sigh of relief, opening his vivid eyes once more.
"Thank StarClan, poppy seeds. If that was foxglove and I licked it... Robinfeather would be furious and depressed for sunrises!" Not wanting to say why, Ryepaw placed the poppy seeds back in place, glad he managed to be careful with the mixing of those two seeds. Checking the herbs, he counted them, repeating the odd numbers over and over in his head, trying to see what the Clan needed or had to throw away. "We need some new, fresh snakeroot." Because of that stupid adder...! The apprentice silently added, but shook his pelt, trying to ignore that troublesome thought. "I wonder when Robinfeather will be back?" Ryepaw meowed out loud, then shrugged. His mentor always seemed busy with something, but always came back as soon as possible, a smile on her face. It made him, a bit, happy inside when his mentor was always cheerful.
Looking around the filled den, it seemed crowded with dusty, probably useless now, herbs that needed to be taken out in the usual place. Newleaf was going to restock the thickets, as it did every time. Remembering the thyme was getting old and worthless, he prepared his teeth to be soothed with an awful taste. Clasping the funky-looking leaves in his mouth, it quickly had an odd tang on his tongue. Yuck! Quickening his pace to get the taste out of his mouth, he busted into a world of light. Scents crowded his nose, only to die away, being weak and such. Cats were sitting by every corner, most being busy or preparing to teach and go outside. His ears suddenly, without warning, began to hear much more clearly.
"How do you like your prey, by the way? Dried or damp? Just wondering." "Thanks StarClan for this prey..." "I bet you can't do this!" "Are the patrols ready?" "Come on, we're going to train!" Noises flooded his ticked ears, making poor Ryepaw prick them down, as a wash of calmness and silence destroyed the voices he was so used to, only wanting to hear the sound of his mentor's voice. Soon, after walking outside to place the thyme down, a crooked path outside of the camp, there was a pile of dead, dried up leaves and flowers, sometimes even berries. Placing the thyme down, Ryepaw licked again and again, to get the tang out of his jaws. A scent hit his mouth when he reopened it. One of herbs. "Robinfeather?" He called out, standing up higher to see if his mentor was there.
"Thank StarClan, poppy seeds. If that was foxglove and I licked it... Robinfeather would be furious and depressed for sunrises!" Not wanting to say why, Ryepaw placed the poppy seeds back in place, glad he managed to be careful with the mixing of those two seeds. Checking the herbs, he counted them, repeating the odd numbers over and over in his head, trying to see what the Clan needed or had to throw away. "We need some new, fresh snakeroot." Because of that stupid adder...! The apprentice silently added, but shook his pelt, trying to ignore that troublesome thought. "I wonder when Robinfeather will be back?" Ryepaw meowed out loud, then shrugged. His mentor always seemed busy with something, but always came back as soon as possible, a smile on her face. It made him, a bit, happy inside when his mentor was always cheerful.
Looking around the filled den, it seemed crowded with dusty, probably useless now, herbs that needed to be taken out in the usual place. Newleaf was going to restock the thickets, as it did every time. Remembering the thyme was getting old and worthless, he prepared his teeth to be soothed with an awful taste. Clasping the funky-looking leaves in his mouth, it quickly had an odd tang on his tongue. Yuck! Quickening his pace to get the taste out of his mouth, he busted into a world of light. Scents crowded his nose, only to die away, being weak and such. Cats were sitting by every corner, most being busy or preparing to teach and go outside. His ears suddenly, without warning, began to hear much more clearly.
"How do you like your prey, by the way? Dried or damp? Just wondering." "Thanks StarClan for this prey..." "I bet you can't do this!" "Are the patrols ready?" "Come on, we're going to train!" Noises flooded his ticked ears, making poor Ryepaw prick them down, as a wash of calmness and silence destroyed the voices he was so used to, only wanting to hear the sound of his mentor's voice. Soon, after walking outside to place the thyme down, a crooked path outside of the camp, there was a pile of dead, dried up leaves and flowers, sometimes even berries. Placing the thyme down, Ryepaw licked again and again, to get the tang out of his jaws. A scent hit his mouth when he reopened it. One of herbs. "Robinfeather?" He called out, standing up higher to see if his mentor was there.
Number of words: 565
