Sorting is Boring (Locust)

The mundane routines of clan life were...exhausting. That thought filtered through Locustflight's mind as he picked his way through the trees and slid through the undergrowth. All around him the forest was abuzz with life. Insects chattered in the brush, birds twittered in the trees and spread out throughout the forest, unseen, ThunderClan warriors and apprentices went about their daily tasks. Hunt, scout, repeat, hunt, scout, repeat. The rhythm of warrior life had been beat into Locustflight's brain since he was a kit. Expectations, insistances and threats filtered around like the white noise of crickets on a hot night. They battered at his skull and tugged at the sandy tom's attention but never for long. It was easy to go mad or die of boredom if you let clan life get to you...if you tried to make excitement where there need be none. Warriors and apprentices died every moon because they picked fights or got their tails in a twist over some bruised ego or another. Locustflight had no interest in those petty things, in part because he liked being alive and seeing his own blood made the tom queasy. Still, when everyone around him was chattering about who fathered so and so's kits, what if prey ran out next moon and what were they going to do about those pesky RiverClanners near Sunningrocks....it got exhausting to listen to even if he tried to sleep through most of it.

So, instead of sleep the lanky warrior had slithered his way out of camp for a bit of hunting in the forest. The dawn patrol he had gone on had gathered around the freshkill pile, him sitting off to the side nibbling a mouse so as to not appear rude and gotten to gossiping about some queen and her promiscuous behavior. Locustflight had abandoned ship as soon as he knew he would not be noticed. Now, ambling through the bustling forest with his typical loose-limbed stroll, Locustflight found very little of interest. He could hunt, it would be nice to stretch his legs and run, but nothing tempted his nose. Most scent trails in this area were stale or the brush was growing too thick in the ravines for him to navigate well. So, Locustflight didn't expend the energy to try, knowing he would miss or trip.

Just as Locustflight was contemplating turning back, a sharp scent drifted by on the breeze. Raising his head, the blue-eyed tom peered around. It smelled like...mint. Sweet but sharp, it tickled his nose, tempting him to sneeze. Ambling through the brush, the skinny tomcat checked around tree roots and growths of bracken and brambles, trying to find the mint patch. Locustflight knew very little of medicine or healing, it wasn't a warriors business, but he knew a thing or two about what herbs Sandfeather and her little shadow were always hunting for. Mint helped with something or other and Sandfeather seldom put Locustflight to real work when he went to visit her. She had a brain in her head unlike some of the more superficial clanmates Locustflight knew though he hadn't talked to her much. A visit to her den would keep Hazelclaw and Falconstar off his back if nothing else. Finding the mint growing behind a gnarled oak, Locustflight nipped off a bundle of leaves. Leaving some to continue growing, the flame-point tom gathered his bundle and headed back toward camp, making note of the location in case Sandfeather needed it later.

Camp had slowed down since Locustflight left, more cats lazing around in the sun as it climbed higher in the sky. Ambling his way through it all, Locustflight headed for Sandfeather's den after not spotting her in the camp proper. The den itself was not a place Locustflight ever visited, thankfully having a healthy history. He could smell dock and pungent garlic, the sweetness of poppies but no hint of illness or disease. Stopping just outside of the de, Locustflight put down the mint he'd gathered, swiping his tongue around his mouth. The sharp tang of the mint lingered making his mouth feel cold. Shaking his head, Locustflight stuck his head into Sandfeather's den.

"Sandfeather?" Locustflight's tail twitched at the sight of the den, bundles and piles of herbs, seeds and the like were littered all around Sandfeather, radiating out from her in what looked like an attempt at order. "Uh...is this a bad time?" Sandfeather herself had a glazed expression that Locustflight recognized immediately: end stage boredom. Hooking the pile of mint with his paw, Locustflight pushed it forward through the den entrance. "I come bearing gifts."

TAGGED · bird
NOTES · wow I rambled...sorry....