Weed had reentered the Moonclan camp carrying a large bundle of moss in her jaws. Now that she had prey in her belly, she had a bit more energy to spare and spent that time doing her duties. Hunt for the clan, gather moss, collect some herbs if she was told too. Even her dark pelt seemed to regain its shine after a brief moment of dullness. Her ribs still poked out of her sides a bit, but she would not regain her well-fed frame for a while. The tortoiseshell initiate headed over towards the nursery with her large bundle before she stopped. The queens would appreciate the fresh moss, and Weed quietly snuck into the nursery to make sure she didn’t disturb the mothers and their children. She cleared out the dirty moss, replaced it with the new, and rolled the old nests into a neat ball that she started to kick out of the den. Weed didn’t spend much time in the nursery den. The mother’s needed the rest, and she knew better than to provoke their ire by waking their kits. She remembered how she would give her own mother a hard time whenever it was time for a nap. Weed smiled fondly at the memory before she picked up the bundle of old moss in her jaws. She took it back outside of the camp, burying it beneath the trunk of an old tree.

The initiate let out a soft yawn before she gave herself a stretch. Weed carefully picked bits of moss from between her toes before dragging it over her ears. She glanced back in the direction of Sunclan. How did it look now after the fire? Was it running amuck with rogues and loners? What of those left in the camp. Weed quickly shook her head. It would do her no good to think of that now. This was the path laid out of Sunclan, set in place for them by the Sun God. He would return soon, or at least she hoped. But for now, she looked up at the sky as the moon slowly began to take the sun's place.