SHE FELT NO GUILT IN HER ACTIONS. She never had. In all of her days, guilt had never been something the abnormally thin she-cat particularly felt. Perhaps this was simply because she was the daughter of a feline who had taught her that guilt was not something of value. Her mother had taught her that the world was hers, all of those years ago. Thinking of Satara Jacqueline still made the molly's eyes darken slightly. By now, it had been years since her mother had died, yet the wounds were still raw, especially when she did things like this. Her mother would have complimented her gall, to go right into the garden of a clan and take what she needed. Her ear twitched. No, this was not the place. She needed to stay focused.

She quietly moved through the garden, pausing at all of the herbs that could possibly be useful to her. Her gait was slow. She had lost her ability to run when she was a child. The fox trap had mangled her back leg in a way that she had never recovered. She was still clumsy in her navigation, even after all of these years...

Her thoughts trailed until she found what she was looking for, the comfrey root. Her hip, the one attached to her damaged leg, had become more and more sore over the last few days of traveling. She wasn't as young as she used to be, and although such travel was once something that she did regularly, she was at best the age of a senior warrior now, and at worst a young elder. 

She let out a sigh, before digging out the root. Had she not once been trained in medicine, she would never have known that this was the solution. Luckily for her, a garden had once been her home.

She was just about to use the herb when she heard a voice behind her...