[nyme]

HE'S GOT A TEMPERATURE OF NEGATIVE DEGREES AGAIN

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✪ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

PEACHPAW . 8 MOONS . HE/HIM . THUNDERCLAN

Peachpaw nearly jumps out of his own cream fur. —Oh! Violetfreckle!! His earlier apprehension around her is gone, rain rolling off duck feathers. He's just glad he hasn't lost both of his warriors completely; that'd be pretty humiliating to explain on top of returning empty-pawed. The bobtailed apprentice sighs, palpable relief lighting his gaze and only growing brighter as she points him toward the right stuff.

"Oh, uh. I didn't...see that. Thank you, Violetfreckle." Peachpaw's head bobs in an awkward but deeply grateful nod. He is still much too relieved to feel embarrassed at overlooking it. The herb doesn't look quite how he'd imagined, but one good whiff of it and suddenly Hollowpaw's explanation makes sense; it's a pretty distinct scent. Peachpaw decides he doesn't at all envy medicine cats for having to memorize all the different things that they do or fill their mouths with all these strange, pungent plants day in and day out. A warrior's duties are much simpler. Is that small critter a cat? No? Well it can probably be eaten, so hunt it. Is that large critter attacking you? Yes? Well that's no good, so attack it back. Easy-peasy.

Peachpaw looks to Violetfreckle quietly, getting an idea of how she goes about the harvest before gingerly repeating the process—even the amount. He doesn't want to do anything wrong, so he will do exactly as she does and then wait quietly for her to make it back from the other patch she'd found. Well, quietly except to call out (with a mouth full of seasoning): "Min'pel'?"

No idea where that one's gone to. Hopefully not eaten. He's clearly not that worried, the way he attentively perks up at Violetfreckle's return.

"We go?"

+4 THYME

@vellichor ; VIOLETFRECKLE
@FANNIBAL ; MINKPELT