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wolfie
Oleander was loafing under the tree, eyes focused intensely on a centipede that was crawling up its bark. This guy better hurry, he thought. Centipedes didn't hibernate. They just hid in warm hidey holes. He'd see them crawl out occasionally, as opposed to dome of their brethren who stood still and slept until Newleaf.
The tom had grown considerably since the last time he was I these parts. He'd gotten taller, though his chubbiness still remained. His face was a bit more jagged, having grown out of its kitten softness, though still more circular than most cats. The odd double lines that went down the sides of his mouth had healed into a permanent scar. There were several pieces of vegetation stuck in his chest fur that had gotten even fluffier, especially now in Leafbare.
He was keeping warn, his paws under his torso. That kitlike wonder never quite leaving his gaze as he looked upon the insect on the tree. Eventually, he had to tear away as he heard something from the other side of the tree where the stream was. Oleander had survived long on his own to be suspicious of sounds. The soft feline poked his head from around the tree trunk to see a fellow cat dealing with what seemed to be cracked pads. Approaching strangers could be a dangerous affair, but most of them calmed down when they realized Oleander was only there to help. He tried not to antagonise anyone by crossing their boundaries and talking to them when they didn't want to be talked to, but most of them didn't turn down some medical advice.
"If you really want to heal those up, I'd suggest chewing up some marigold. Otherwise, you might need some burdock if they get infected." he mentioned stepping out from behind the truck. He regarded the other cat. They didn't smell like a clan cat, and the cracked pads suggested someone who wandered quite a bit.