" malice shall corrupt reality,
and turn blood on blood
for a rotting wait of revenge "
There is the Star Realm, a place for cats who have served out of pure loyalty and benevolence, and the Dark Realm, a resting place for those who served out of t...
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-❂-
As a breeze coarsed through the woods and rattled the tree branches above, Lynxpaw kept her gaze ahead and sharp. She trekked onwards with Fernpaw and Mottledrose right at her tail, their paws crushing the leaves below them and crackling the dying, dew-soaked grass. Leaf-fall had arrived, the leaves igniting in an array of vibrant colors and a colder, bone-chilling environment surrounding them. As Lynxpaw glanced to and fro, she could only see misery embedded in the vivid, lively scenery around her. Leaf-fall meant Leafbare was approaching, and Leafbare meant scarcer prey and unbearable weather.
Nightfrost had sent the three of them on a hunt for herbs they were in desperate need of. Ever since HeathClan arrived two sunsets ago, they had used many herbs on treating the battered and wounded cats. Lynxpaw winced as she remembered reviewing their opened wounds, now infected since they had traveled on without bothering healing them. Every HeathClanner had some of injury, even the smallest kit had a scratch upon her muzzle. They all were attacked by their own Clanmates, leaving more wounds than just the ones on the surface.
Lynxpaw halted as a familiar sight caught her attention. She swerved off of their straight path, her muzzle twitching as she approached a blooming supply of chervil, it's leaves pointing towards her due to the wind. "Chervil!" Lynxpaw squeaked, excitement buzzing in her voice. She blinked and drowned out her unneeded twinge of cheerfulness, turning to Fernpaw and beckoning him forward.
"The roots and the leaves are both useful for infected wounds... I think," Fernpaw muttered under his breath, Lynxpaw flashing the apprentice a judgemental look. He twitched under her gaze and chuckled nervously. "I've never gathered chervil before, but I know it's usage."
Lynxpaw stared at him for a moment, memories of gathering herbs with Nightfrost keeping her in a trance for a moment. She grew cold at the memories of those days, where no visions haunted her and she was able to sleep peacefully within RidgeClan camp. "I'll gather the roots, you stick with the leaves. Just be delicate," Lynxpaw instructed, shoving her thoughts aside and turning back to the chervil plant.
Without waiting for a nod of approval from Fernpaw, the molly unsheathed her claws and tore through the soft, wet soil below her. Shredded grass weaved in between her toes and the fur around her pads grew damp as she dug carefully and slowly towards the roots of the plant. After what felt like sunrises of digging, her steady movement ceased as she noticed brown, knobby roots sticking out through the dirt. Relief flooded over Lynxpaw and as if she was a young apprentice again, she delightfully leaned forward and began to pull out the roots cautiously.
The she-cat sneezed and shook her head as she pulled back, dirt across her muzzle and clinging to her paws. Several strands of the roots hung from her jaws though, Lynxpaw feeling a sensation of pride in herself relishing in her chest. Her eyes lit up and a comfortable warmth entangled her body. Lynxpaw was trapped in a trance of the past and as she turned to eye what she expected to be Nightfrost, she instead was faced with a blank-faced Fernpaw.
