Summer’s Muse || Fawnheart & Rookbriar Hang Out!

As opposed to Rookbriar, the ginger warrior hadn't yet thought so far ahead to work out the timeline of their project, now with so many moving parts, much less the expiration of their ingredients. They were focused on the immediate thoughts in their head, accumulating like ants on molding herbs, forgotten somewhere to grow old. It wasn't often Fawnheart thought very long or hard about things, but right here and now, they could sense the key visuals and technicalities clinging where they bounced around his skull, sticky like honey. Would those thoughts grow stale with inactivity, or would the queen's persisting sunshine stimulate their actual germination? Right now, it seemed closer to the latter, with her actually agreeing to act on their plan right in the present rather than leaving it to fester away in mere concept. Not like Tinyleaf, who jumped around so fast he could never seem to commit to any one plan without a leader's command. This sort of productivity, an investment in the future, was new to them, who normally just let the tides of time push them around without ever attempting to mold the moment to their liking. Now was an opportunity to do just that.

Moved by realization and the unnatural rush of initiative which had lent itself to their taking this walk in the first place, Fawnheart rolled onto his stomach in renewed confidence, paws poised beneath them to push up, up, upwards and get ready to go should Rookbriar give the word. The grass tickled at their white stomach, poking through the fluff and making his nose twitch ticklishly in response. But he persisted! Whiskers flaring with interest, they blinked down at the other's speckled face, although made no move to get up just yet, not wanting to rush her on one of her exclusive outings. "That sounds nice... I like the river." Truth be told, they liked most everything around Sunclan territory- it was their home and where they'd spent their whole life playing, exploring, and now patrolling. But the river did feel a little special. There were a few waterways across the territory, but they still remembered going there to play with their mom as a celebration for their apprentice's ceremony. Their brothers shied away from the water, but Fawnheart liked the smell of it, cold and muddy and so unlike the rest of the land. Going there would feel almost like a little vacation, since they didn't tend to linger by the waterside much on official duties and spent more time within camp rather than outside of it otherwise. Even if it was just to collect mud, it would be fun to paw around and maybe pounce at a frog or two- if the hopping didn't startle him first.

And so the river was a go. In a gentle push, Fawnheart was up off the ground with the kinetic energy of the shoulder bump spurring the motion. Pulled away from the fragile grasses, grown long and tendril-like beneath where they'd lain, the blades clung after him with a static sort of attraction, as if begging to be nestled in once more. But there was no time to rest, not now! When inspiration struck, it had to be followed before it was lost, like so much of their other feelings in the past. Shaking the sleepiness from the sun out of his bright ears, the warrior took pace after Rookbriar, but only slithered a few steps through the sea of flowers before halting, struck by the sheer magnitude of the task before them. Just three flowers, out of this whole meadow? Why, it was like picking three stars out of the sky, searching for the perfect glimmer amidst a cosmic glow further than the eye could even see in one glance. Here and now, it was the same. The floral pocket they resided in stretched so much further beyond Fawnheart's single perspective, forcing them to turn their head around to get a glimpse of its entirety. It was nigh uncontainable! Was it really possible to find three special flowers, when there were so many that seemed to overlap in their differences?

Maybe the differences don't matter, though. Maybe, it wasn't about finding the three exact flowers... so much as it was finding the immediate flowers that met their immediate criteria. Like selecting warriors for a patrol- deputies probably didn't fuss for hours and hours about the exact personalities and skillsets of every cat they sent out. It was more about who was directly available and who could suit the job, regardless of their individualities. Maybe Sunmeadow is real, too, at that rate. A field of flowers that didn't need to be special, only needed to suit a purpose. And that purpose was to be big, yellow, and otherwise bee-like. With a determined nod, Fawnheart excepted the parameters before remembering to mew in case Rookbriar was already too enraptured with the search to catch the nonverbal response. "Oh- Three flowers sounds just perfect."

It was a nice idea, although not one Fawnheart could fathom. They weren't sure they knew much about what bees wanted or liked in a den... building one with the perspective of a feline might make it harder to construct the sort of bee home that the insects would properly settle into. Did bees sleep in combs, anyway? They didn't have the most experience with things like honey harvesting- those sort of duties were left to brave medicine cats, and although he knew the comb came from the hives, they'd never considered that bees might not have their own separate, mini chambers just like they did at Sunclan. Did they all sleep in the same combed walls? Or, even within the combs themselves? If that's the case... I have no idea how we could replicate that with our paws. Such tiny, uniform indents seemed harder to construct than a big, bumbling flower bee.