[Neon sparks]

no founder, or level one or up only

based on a color palette from a previous contest
for this ones contest show me a personality. no extras, no word limit.
storys count but only if they show the mouse's character.

Ends: 7/25/2018

Code: Select all

Username:
Name:
Rank:
Proof of level:
Personality:

[Chimericect]

Username ||Chimericect
Name || Dove
Rank || Border Runner
Proof of level || Level 3
Personality || Unlike her namesake, Dove is quite the opposite of beauty and grace. Not usually the nicest to look at, with disheveled fur that usually has twigs or leaves sticking out of it, or food stains from whatever she last ate. She isn’t exactly the best at her job, either; but seeing as she can’t seem to focus on anything else this was the last option for them. Doves mind tends to wander, and not paying attention at times can be dangerous. She tends to annoy the other mice in her tribe because she constantly forgets what she’s doing. It’s kind of like when you walk into a room and forget what you’re supposed to do, except 10x worse.


“Dove, did you gather a couple of branches like I asked you?” “Wait, wait when did you ask me to do that?” -collective tribe sigh-
“Hey dove did you run the message to the other tribe?” “.....If I say yes and go now will you be mad?”
“Dove did you-“ “probably not.”

The tribe has gotten used to this, and so has she. She really does give an attempt to do the right thing? Dove has a heart of gold, even when she seems to be struggling with things. Dove wants to help, which unfortunately can get her into some trouble. She isn’t a builder, but she’s tried to help out Aspen incense or twice, any efforts leading towards some negative outcome where something is broken- whether it be the objects they were using or Aspen. Deapite these setbacks, Dove never gets put down. She has a cherry “I’ll just to better next time” kind of attitude. She isn’t one to just give up on something, even when her efforts are in vain. Dove tends to be in her own little world at times, being a border runner is pretty boring right now, at least for her. She absolutely despised being alone, so running the border alone? No thanks.

Dove doesn’t know herself or see herself the way others do. In fact, she feels that she’s perfectly fine, and there’s nothing wrong with feeling like that. She doesn’t pay any attention to what the tribe mice say, because in the end they were the ones that asked her to join. She may not appear to have many talents, not yet at least, but she has a secure amount of confidence in herself that nobody can take away.

[Placebo]

Ooh mark mark

W eeps I need to stop forgetting about these competitions

Good luck to everyone!

[Imagine_Ink]

He's so cool!

But I think I'll just watch this one. You guys have such good entries!

Good luck to you all

[alphatoros]

Username: alphatoros
Name: Goose
Rank: Watch Mouse
Proof of level: boop
Personality: Goose is playfully brazen and is almost always with a signature smirk. Full of lighthearted mockery and sarcastic quips he may come off as rather mean spirited, though he always takes into consideration others feelings - especially those who are learning somethig new. He also has a bad habit of hiding his own feelings and pretending he's always alright, he likes to keep up the front of his happy persona.

[Knickknacks]

Username: Knickknacks
Name: Swan
Rank: Builder
Proof of level: link
Personality:

Swan

Swan is the de facto mom of the tribe, and a single-minded hard worker when there’s stuff to be done. As the only builder in the tribe, Swan is a kind of jack-of-all trades, working wherever she’s needed- when she arrived, the tribe still didn’t have decent burrows! Stormcloud couldn’t even fit into them! The horror! She remedied that right away. Her white pelt is often flecked with the evidence of her hard work- to Swan, physical appearance has always been a secondary concern.

Similar to Stormcloud (though less prone to sarcasm), Swan fills a mentor/parent-like role in some of the younger mice’s lives. She’s always willing to listen, talk, give hugs, and dish out scoldings whenever needed. She’s never had pups of her own, but isn’t bothered by this fact- there are plenty of young mice in her life as is. Even Stormcloud, her elder by several months, recognizes her Mom Authority™.

All in all, Swan fills a much-needed role in the tribe, both in terms of work and in terms of family. However, this doesn’t mean she’s perfect by any stretch. Sometimes she can become overwhelmed with all the work- though the others help as best she can, being the only builder in the tribe can be overwhelming, and Swan can end up stressing herself out at times. Conversely, when she has others helping her she can tend to be a bit controlling- she doesn’t not trust others but likes it when things go her own way. As more builders join the tribe, Swan will loosen up a bit, learning to trust her coworkers to get things done their way.

~*~

Positive Traits:: Hardworking; Understanding; Maternal
Negative Traits:: Somewhat controlling; Stresses herself out
Likes:: Swimming; Hugs; Dragonflies (she thinks their wings are awesome!)
Dislikes:: Laziness; Being cold; Earthworms (unfortunately, being a builder, she encounters these critters more oftenthan she’d like. Gross slimy things. Not at all tasty, in her opinion.)

[crackerbox_palace]

username: zaika
name: partridge
rank: healer
proof of level: ♥
personality:

A total opportunist, Partridge is always looking to maneuver himself into a covenant at whatever point conceivable- that is, always for his benefit. Partridge has selfish motives more often than not, and this friendly and pacifist behavior is the puissance of an attitude, that everyone should best try to get along with one another, to look out for oneself. But Partridge acknowledges his insinuating and acquisitive side wholly. Never would he think of tricking his tribemates, or trying to hide it. So it is with a con man's signature grin he looks for a deal to close or a trust to earn, but he's loveably aware while he's doing so.

The paucity of clouds throughout the night allowed for hushed starlight to be cast upon the hills, illuminating the alpine foliage where Vervain foraged, deep within the woods, and far beyond the treeline. Vervain studied his surroundings, lurking about with great stealth. The rich and thick grasses would crunch beneath any other mouse's pawsteps, but not to the careful footing of the lightweight and slender Vervain. Instead, he crawled throughout the heavy vegetation, going completely undetected by any night time predators.

He searched nearly endlessly that night until, at last, Vervain had scored. He looked to the sky and the plant reached to the moon, it seemed: he had found a tall bush of blackberries. Wasting no time, Vervain clung tightly to the thicker stems and he climbed. He was tired and hungry, and so were the two mice whom he had met recently, Lingonberry and Shasta, as he recalled their names- he couldn't keep them waiting any longer if he wished to stay close to them.

When he had reached the berries, waiting high above the ground for him, Vervain surveyed all the stems closely. When he had spotted the best one, he worked his blade-like claws and slashed a stem cleanly off, before it fell to the soft earth far below. Vervain gave himself a nod, and then began to hoist himself slowly down to collect his lucky find. Little did he know, a thief had been lurking tonight, and it wasn't until he landed to the floor and he turned to count his berries that he realised- they're gone!

He began to feel frightened, as any mouse would, even to panic: What animal could take something from me so swiftly and so silently? He was well aware that whatever stole his entire stem of berries might also be instantaneous enough to take his life. He sighed, deciding the berries weren't worth the risk. And so Vervain quickly retreated into the bushes with empty paws. So quickly, he hadn't seen the looming shadow in the dark bush, until his nose collided with the lurking stranger's, and when it did his quivering heart skipped a beat.

Obviously very startled, Vervain shrieked like an owl, the sound piercing the air as he jumped- though not before he could land a fighting claw the the stranger's face.

"ouch!"

Cried the stranger, cuffing his bleeding muzzle in his paws, which were stained with blackberrry.
Vervain caught his breath finally and he looked at his claws, and then at the wounded stranger, the thief who had stolen his berries. Vervain pushed past the white mouse, still rubbing his muzzle with eyebrows scrunched, and sure enough there was his blackberry stem, nibbled on and almost entirely devoured already.

He growled and said,
"You sure have an appetite- for trouble."
The stranger showed a guilty grin and he chuckled,
"I love me a late night snack!"
Vervain could not believe that this mouse was joking with him. He reached his paw out to snatch back the stem, hoping to salvage one or two more berries, but the stranger did something very strange. He took Vervain's paw and gave it a firm shake.

"Please, my name is Partridge."
Vervain was utterly and completely puzzled. He replied slowly,
"I'm Vervain..."
"Vervain? What a headstrong name. Now, sir Vervain... "
Partridge paused to scratch his ear, his hind leg pulsing speedily back and forth.
"Do climb that tall bush again, won't you? I'm exhausted! Just look at m- aaaahh!"
He was interrupted when an insulted Vervain took him by the tail, hung his belly over his shoulder, and began marching out of the woods.
"You are coming with me, is that understood?!"
Vervain retorted. Shasta would know what to do with this outrageous scoundrel, stranger sightings shouldn't be taken lightly. Despite the circumstances, Partridge still laughed and agreed,

"Yes, Sir! "
Vervain rolled his eyes. His initial thoughts: Soon this pathetic mouse will shut his mouth, but the time following, Partridge chattered endlessly, often reverting to just how much his nose hurt from the hostile encounter with Vervain. He didn't complain, Vervain noticed. This mouse hadn't been one bit negative- it made Vervain a bit sick. Now that he stood before the stretch of alpine rose where he had made camp with Lingonberry and Shasta, Vervain passed through, and dropped Partridge in the center of the camp, a cloud of dust forming where he fell.

"oof!"
Chirped Partridge after landing in the soil. He brushed off the dust cozily, and looked upwards. His gaze met an enormous Himalayan mouse with a stern face, like that of a mighty eagle. Partridge smiled and stood, taking the heroic buck's brown paw and shaking it, much like he had done to Vervain. And, much like Vervain, the Himalayan was surprised by the odd behavior, brushing off his paw and raising an eyebrow.

"Dear friend, I am Partridge. It's a real pleasure to meet you!"
Partridge exclaimed joyfully, however noticeably in pain from the wound on his muzzle.

The Himalayan stared in pity before addressing himself.
"You will call me Shasta. Cheiftain Shasta."

Shasta turned his attention to Vervain now, with lots to inquire. He signalled for Vervain to meet with him, away from the anomalous newcomer. So the two began to whisper in the dark, and Partridge was left alone, curled in a ball and getting rather comfortable already.
"I'd spotted this rogue while foraging in the woods, Chieftain."
Vervain explained. The previous week, Shasta had told him to report anything out of the ordinary to his excellence immediately. So Vervain figured, what better to do than to bring the culprit, alive, to the paws of his master? He was positive the outrageous mouse would get what he deserved.
"Very good, Vervain... "
Shasta uttered, and Vervain showed a proud face.
"Well, what are you to do with him, Chieftain?"
Vervain was anticipating what justice the Cheiftain would summon upon the intruder, so during the long silence, he looked to the rising sun with a cruel smirk, awaiting Shasta's response. At last, Shasta spoke again.

"This mouse is going to work for us."
Shasta pronounced, and Vervain could not believe what he was hearing.
"I'm sorry- HE is going to WORK???"
Both mice peered in Partridge's direction. He was fast asleep, cheeks and paws still stained with blackberry. His wound, however, showed no signs of healing yet.
Shasta opened his mouth to speak once more.
"You're right. This mouse isn't in good health. Then, it is your duty as our food gatherer to continue to nourish Partridge to health."
Vervain sighed again. He knew the Chieftain was stern in all his decisions. So it was with great reluctance he deffered himself,
"Yes, Chieftain."
Shasta respectively patted Vervain's shoulder before concluding,
"Excellent then. See to it that Partridge's wounds heal quickly, and that will recover soon enough to begin work."
With that the Chieftain receded into his burrow, like the moon appeared to sink into the earth.

--

Following that morning, Vervain had just returned from his noon forage. He worked for hours a day in the morning and in the evening, and at night time too. With the Chieftain's words always in mind, Vervain stopped to pick arnica for Partridge's wound, which was very difficult to drag to camp, avoiding poisoning himself. Yet after every exhausting trip back and forth through the woods he took, Vervain hauled himself into camp to the sight of a lounging Partridge, surrounded by a pile of blueberries in every direction. Occasionally, Partridge would tell stories and Lingonberry would nestle infront of him, eagerly listening, and laughing with one another. It infuriated Vervain, but he remembered, soon this mouse is going to see work himself! And that day would come.

Within a matter of moonrises, Vervain continued to tend to Partridge. Shasta watched, well pleased. Vervain was beginning to fit in with the tribe, and his hard efforts found a new respect within the tribe's heart. And Partridge, he began to get quite big, spending his recovering days pleasantly and always feeding on something. So after a short while, the white mouse had convalesced, with the support of many blueberries and periodic treatments of arnica.

At last came the day Vervain had long awaited since Partridge came to camp. Today marked the beginning of Partridge's training in foraging. Shasta had made it clear the afternoon before that Partridge was to be apprentice to Vervain. He wanted Partridge to be enlightened in the skill of native herbs and medicines soon enough to be a healer. He told Partridge now began the work, and no mouse would wait on him any longer. Partridge simply saluted the Chieftain in agreement, never arguing with anybody since he arrived.

Vervain woke early in the morning, and when he emerged from his own burrow, he hurried to Lingonberry's burrow where Partridge was staying. But when he peered inside, Partridge was nowhere to be seen. Vervain gritted his teeth. Partridge had run away overnight. Vervain raced around the camp looking for the lazy criminal of a mouse, before he put his nose to the wind and began to search the air for scents. But as he looked to the sky, he saw from the corner of his eye, there was Partridge. He was already awake and waiting for Vervain, he hadn't ran away.

Vervain pretended nothing had happened when he met Partridge by the treeline. The two exchanged greetings and made off into the woods, Partridge eager to follow Vervain in his pawsteps. There were many bushes and leaves, none like the other, and a vast variety of herbs were rooted deep in the rich alpine soil. Vervain pointed to one white flower.
"This white flower is known as sandwort. It is harmless, but the flower tastes barely pleasant."
Partridge nodded along with the information, though to Vervain, he did not look concentrated at all. A little ways off there was a wide patch of dandelions in a sunny clearing.

"The dandelion is a complicated thing,"
Began Vervain,
"It is useful for treating stomach problems, such as an upset stomach or a lack of appetite.
Yet, the dandelion is pulled from many areas near a tribe where the soil is fertile, because of how rapidly it will spread otherwise. This ultimately leads to famine and-"

Vervain turned around. Then he spun and he discerned, Partridge had gone again. At first, he was not worried. Surely Partridge would know the area well enough to know the best bush to steal from a stranger. However Vervain waited in the clearing, and Partridge never reappeared through the foilage.

Frustrated now, Vervain embarked on a search for Partridge. He put his nose to the air and despite the meddling from the wind, his keen sense of smell put him on the tracks of his wandering apprentice. The terrain was already familiar to Vervain, he knew every landmark to the East or the West, or to the North or the South. Sniffing the trail of Partridge like a hunting dog, Vervain detected, Partridge had been heading directly South from where he stood. To the South stood magnificent cliffs and ledges, crying great trickling streams seeping swiftly throughout the country. He had to wonder now, Does Partridge know where he's headed? No doubt were the steep gorges a potential danger to a lost traveler, so Vervain ran, in hopes to catch up to Partridge, whom was still very out of sight. Surely he couldn't be much far up ahead.

Very soon after, adding to his growing concern, Vervain caught an old scent of an alpine kite. Perhaps from an abandoned nest, but still a constant threat to a couple of mice. Caught away in his own thoughts, Vervain nearly ran off of a rocky ledge, merely able to stop himself, brewing a storm of dust beneath his paws. He panted and gazed at the terrain below him. He saw big and elderly trees resting on the vast dirt, and a thin brook rushing quickly between the gigantic roots and boulders that lay on the earth before him. There was a white figure, it stood out in all the browns. From a far, Vervain tried to make out the white blur. Partridge!

Vervain was not exactly happy to see Partridge after the long trek he'd taken in order to persue him. He stormed down to the dusty rock Partridge lay on, and he shouted with vexation.
"What are you doing here?!
He snarled and Partridge whipped around to face the noise, frightened and quivering. Vervain stomped closer and snatched his apprentice carelessly by the arm, his claws almost digging into the arm of Partridge.
"I can explain!"
He pleaded with Vervain frantically.
"I'd gotten lost and the wind was too strong for me to find you again! I took a few wrong turns and-"

"Enough. Not another word from you, scoundrel. I'll have to report you to the Chieftain."

Partridge summoned all his strength, and he tugged loose from Vervain's grip. He didn't ever want to rebel or to stir up trouble, but he was now learning these things were inevitable.
"Oh, quit being so miserly, Vervain!"

There was a long suspense, as Vervain was left in shock at Partridge's actions once again. Vervain bit down hard in his mouth, enraged, then Partridge continued to toy with his head, though he really didn't mean to, or want to, for that matter.

"Not everything that moves has intentions to kill you. Give the world a chance to be good to you, and it will be. "
Those were the inconceivable words that came out of Partridge's mouth. Just as Vervain began to feel he could trust this mouse, he felt to be stabbed in the back, a feeling he hadn't felt in so long. And that's why he tried so hard not to trust anybody ever again.

"You don't know what I've seen, where I've come from or why I'm here."
He spat back at Partridge with a shallow heart.

Partridge attempted a careful response. He said quietly,
"I would know, if you would just trust me."

Vervain had reached his breaking point. In a fraction of a second he launched himself at Partridge, sending the two tumbling down the jagged, dry peaks in a violent storm of yowling and biting.

The mice fought like lions, each of them relying on brute strength, and tooth and claw. Their lean muscular bodies were torn of their fur and claws raked blood from the exposed flesh, until one powerful thrash from Partridge sent Vervain flying over the rocky ledge covered in torn fur and blood.

Partridge watched in horror as the broken mouse plummeted into the gorge below. Vervain was instantly swept away by the raging river, its deadly force thundering down on the mouse until he was taken underwater, swallowed by the menacing flow.

"What have I done?"

--

Partridge's whole world seemed to freeze around him, his heart sinking low in his chest as he expeditiously raced against the violent river, his legs churning like never before against the rocky soil at the top of the gorge. He was weary and in no condition to run, but he didn't have a choice.

"Help me!"
When he caught sight of a little shining blue head, gasping and bobbing back underwater wildly, Partridge did another brave thing. In a heartbeat, his legs took one more stride, and now he was off the ledge and diving into the river himself. Vervain and Partridge now fought together, a battle against the wrath of the outlands.

Partridge quickly fell victim to the same fate as Vervain. His heavy fur was tugged this way and that way, but he was determined to save his comrade, even at the cost of his own life. There came desperate instances where the two merely missed eachother's reaching paw, and though ther was no time to waste or oxygen to take for granted speaking, Vervain called to Partridge a muffled cry.

Partridge didn't know what Vervain had said to him, but it didn't matter. What mattered was he was going to fish Vervain out of this mess. Partridge finally scooped Vervain onto his shoulders and he clung on tightly, though his eyes were shut and his wheezing mouth hung open. Partridge kept his eyes ahead, but the weight of Vervain kept pushing him constantly underwater. Because of this, neither mouse was able to see past the rigid current that there was a wide waterfall, until it was too late.

One last time, Vervain and Partridge took another heart stopping plummet together, until Vervain's weak paw let go of Partridge and he crashed into the still lake beneath. He was sinking, but no longer struggling. Vervain just sank. He did not move.

Partridge surfaced from the fall, and he looked about gravely for Vervain. Upon realising he hadn't surfaced, Partridge dove back underwater, submerging himself after taking a big gulp of air. And what he saw through the clear and sunlit waters was uncanny. He spotted the once mighty Vervain, still as a stone, and sinking like a boulder.

Vervain's lungs felt like fire. They burned and screamed to him for help. But the help didn't come, because inside he lost the will to live, and it's something he wouldn't get back. He closed his eyes again and he kept them shut. He relaxed his muscles, as not to feel the force pulling him back up towards the light. This force was, none other than Partridge. If Vervain wad dead, Partridge would still carry his body home. There are some with loyalty as such. Vervain had not been in the right mind to feel this, so when Partridge laid him across his back again, he need not gulp in the precious air.

Instead his breaths came in shallowly, undetectable like a ghost. Partridge paddled slowly to the earthy lakeside, and he slid vervain gently on his side, onto the dry ground. Vervain made sudden breathing movements randomly, his breathing followed no pattern anymore. Partridge continued to monitor Vervain in woe. Nothing could have prepared him for the events of that day. He tried to sit up, but he collapsed right back down to the soil with Vervain. So he wrapped himself around his tribemate, cautiously as to keep Vervain breathing, and he felt Vervain shiver.

Partridge nestled closer in hopes to give his warmth. The two lay there on the lakeside throughout the day and into the night, but Vervain didn't open his eyes. He only shivered. He was, regaining his consciousness, but he was bitterly cold. Partridge stayed by his side for every quiver and cough to come from Vervain, until these signs of life continued to develop and early in the morning, before the moon started to set, Partridge was woken by a sudden burst of noise. He jumped and saw Vervain on all fours, spitting up buckets of water, but very much alive.

Vervain turned around and his gaze met Partridge. Partridge stood quietly and attentively.
"I was wrong about you."
Vervain wheezed a few words before he fell again. Partridge hurried to his side, but this time, Vervain was breathing steadily. And he could tell that everything would be alright.

--

The following sunrise the pair was discovered by Shasta. Vervain was still too weak to come home, so Shasta put it upon Partridge to nourish Vervain back to health, just as Vervain had done for him before, and to bring him to camp, slowly and steadily. So Partridge tended to Vervain with great care. As it turns out he had proved to be a great herbalist, and a fine healer to Vervain. The recovery was slow as Shasta had predicted, but Partridge never gave up on his patient, his friend. The seasonal berry had changes during the time of Vervain's recovery. By the time blueberries had passed in the alpine, he could sprint and tumble like a pup.

On a warm and sunny summer day, Partridge came to a decision.
"Vervain, let's go home."

So into the woods they went again, marching home at last. Each, with a brand new respect for the other. It was the happiest moment for Partridge, and even for grumpy Vervain.

[azhdarchid]

So many wonderful entries *-*

I’ll drop out, I should probably stick to the art-based comps X)

[NinjaGerbil]

Username: NinjaGerbil
Name: Chervil
Rank: Healer
Proof of level: Here
Personality:

A nervous individual, Chervil is easily frightened and has a level of caution most mice would find plain silly. He has anxiety over a lot of things, and when particularly scared he often "locks up", his body freezing while his mind panics. It's a highly distressing feeling, but thankfully the medicinal training he got from his mother can help combat this- he's usually found nibbling on lemon balm or chamomile to help himself keep calm. He can appear distant to others, especially due to his habit of getting lost in his thoughts, and even just flat out accidentally ignoring others, but when a task is at hand he can focus brilliantly and does the best he can. There are days where he feels out of place or weaker than the others in his Tribe, but at the end of the day he knows that they are there to support him, and with each day he smiles just a little bit more and worries just a little bit less.

Snap! Thud!

Chervil could feel his own heartbeat. Barely breathing, he pressed his back closer to the bark, one paw clutching his tail anxiously.

Crack, thud, snap.

It was closer. He looked around frantically for an exit, just able to make out shapes in the darkness.

Thud... thud-thud-thud-

Chervil sprang away from the tree he'd been hiding behind, diving for the bushes as the fox's jaws snapped shut a just an inch behind him. The puff of hot breath on his back was almost a solid force, spurring him onwards as he fled on all fours across the leaf litter. The fox turned and caught up to him in just a few steps, and a paw slammed onto his tail, jerking the mouse backwards. Chervil looked up and saw the fox lowering its head, jaws open wide, and in a fit of terror he struggled wildly with a shriek. Turning towards the paw over his tail, he dodged to the side as the fox snapped it's mouth shut and missed him a second time, then darted forwards, sinking his incisors into the fox's paw as strongly as he could.

The predator above him yelped and leapt back, almost lifting the mouse with it, but seeing his chance Chervil dropped and sprinted away. He scrambled over a log, running along the length and springing from the end towards the bushes. Behind him, he could hear the fox hurrying towards him, each pawstep like a thunderclap on the dry leaves. Just as it reached him, Chervil dived headfirst for the safety of the foliage, and for a brief moment he felt as if the fox would simply pluck him out of the air there and then.

And then, his paws met tough stems and his pelt met sharp thorns. He winced, and behind him the fox scraped at the brambles and yelped a second time as thorns pierced its paws. With a much greater threat behind him, Chervil had no choice but to crawl as best as he could, weaving around the spikes until he reached the main stem of the brambles. With wide eyes he stared back the way he had came, and staring back were the sharp amber eyes of what could have been his killer. The fox stood still for a few seconds, watching the prey, and then promptly decided that a face full of thorns was not worth the tiny snack within. With a flick of its tail, it trotted away to seek food elsewhere, and inside the bushes Chervil breathed a sigh of relief.

For a long while he waited inside those bushes, and by the time he left them the night sky was beginning to grow lighter. He hadn't seen the fox since it had given up on hunting him, but still every sound terrified him, even the movement of leaves in the wind put him on edge. He'd always been a particularly timid mouse, but the earlier near-death experience would definitely take some time to recover from.

In the dim light, he gripped his tail again (he did this often as a subconscious action) only to let go again with a gasp of pain. A sharp ache shot through his left paw, and as he slowly clenched and unclenched it testingly he realised it felt suspiciously wet. He must have have scratched it while running through the thorns, he supposed. His sides and ears had the same ache, and with a weary sigh he stood up, limping a little as he moved towards the lighter world beyond. It was risky leaving the shelter, but his injuries wouldn’t tend to themselves.

Leaving the brambles behind, he stuck to the shadows, freezing in fear every time he heard something. It would always take a while before he'd start moving on again, and so his progress was rather slow. As the first ray of true sunlight reached the forest floow, the ground grew damp beneath his paws- recognising it as a sign of water he hurried on quickly. Water meant he could clean his wounds, and the sooner he reached the source the better. Slowly but surely the sound of running water grew louder, until at last he lifted up a leaf with his working front paw and found himself at a pond. It was calm and peaceful, not a single animal in sight, and completing the beautiful scene was an old willow tree at the opposite shore, the long leafy branches swaying gracefully. Chervil noticed he was smiling, a welcome change from his usual nervousness, and after a short moment to admire the view he quickly set to work.

Moving along the bank, he searched both the shore and his mind, trying to remember the correct way to bandage a wound and also seeking the supplies he needed. A little further around the pond he discovered what he was looking for among some water primroses; tall cattails with wide, clean leaves. Stepping back, he judged the distance before taking a running start towards the water, and leapt for the stalks as best as he could.

Splash!

That didn’t go to plan.

Weakly spluttering, he crawled back onto solid ground. At least the cuts were somewhat washed. He stood up on his hind legs, looking around for anything that he could use to help him.

And that’s when he saw it. Two golden eyes, watching him from the darkness under some ferns.

Chervil froze again, like he always did. He hated this feeling, trying so desperately to move as his body betrayed him. No matter how he struggled, his body was always stuck in place until the danger had almost reached him- how he’d lived this long was a complete mystery.

The eyes came a little closer, and while his body stayed still as a stone Chervil's mind was a mess. This was it, he was too injured to run fast enough, he couldn't escape, this was how he'd die-

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

Chervil looked up, still fearful but mostly surprised. Stood before him was a sleek cinnamon-coloured doe with dark brown patches, and those same golden eyes were looking back at him, although this time they were accompanied with a friendly smile.

"It's ok, there's no dangers here. You should probably sit down, you look like you're about to keel over!" the doe laughed, looking him up and down. Chervil didn't see any comedy in his condition, but she was right. His body regaining movement again, he fell back to sit on his hind legs, wincing a little from his cuts.

"Tired, soaking wet, and covered in scratches... Either you've been on the run, or you've had a very unlucky night. Or both. Probably both." The other mouse drew closer, suddenly becoming a little more sincere as she crouched beside him. Chervil was quiet for a long time, recalling the fox, the brambles, the fear. The doe began to speak again, but he remained inside his thoughts, oblivious. It was only when he felt a cold feeling on his arm that he realised she was still there, and now she was using a small leaf to gently tip water over his injured paw. The cold shock at first was uncomfortable, but after a moment the pain in his hand numbed a little.

He watched her work, but he couldn't help but notice she didn't really know how to tend to the wounds. He'd been taught by his mother from a young age, and it had never occurred to him that other mothers might not do the same. After a few minutes, he felt he needed to have it done properly, and so he eventually found the strength to speak up.

"Cattails."

"I-I'm sorry?" the doe replied, clearly confused.

"I was trying to reach the cattail leaves over there. They're... very good for bandages."

The doe considered this information for a moment, then stood up to face the water where the cattails were growing. Like he had done before, she took a running start, and sprang towards the stems. She landed on the bottom of one, her tail dipping into the water, and it only took her a few seconds for her to shimmy upwards to where the largest leaves were. Leaning across, she took hold of one, and glanced back.

"How's this one?"

"Yes, that'll do nicely. Get as much of it in one piece as you can, please."

The doe nodded, and moved her hand down to the base of the leaf. A few quick tugs were all it took for it to come loose, and she gently took hold of the edge in her mouth before leaping back to the shore. Returning to him once more, she offered it to him, along with another friendly smile.

"Thank you." Chervil said, offering a small smile back. With that, he quickly began measuring and cutting the leaf into various lengths. He carefully nibbled at the edge of each piece, drawing out the sticky sap within, and that he used to glue and bind the leaf over the cut. There were a few he couldn't reach on his back, but the doe had quickly picked up on his method and so had made her own. She didn't apply them quite as carefully as he did, or make the edges sticky enough, but they would do for now.

As they started on the last few cuts, the doe suddenly asked a question.

"Do you know what a tribe is?"

Chervil didn't. His mother had been a solitary, careful creature, and he'd never known his father. His life had been one of caution, and apart from a few chance meetings on his travels he'd never properly talked to another mouse, let alone live with one.

"...No?"

"Do you want me to tell you?"

"...Ok?"

"Well, I am Sparrow, and I am the leader of my tribe..."

And so, this 'Sparrow' mouse began to explain about tribes to Chervil. Talk of living with others, having a family, a place to truly call home. Safety, warmth, happiness. And the more she talked, the more it began to dawn on Chervil that his life could be so much better. He was a nervous, awkward mouse... but more than anything, he was lonely.

After a while, she finished explaining, and the last bandage was put into place. Sparrow sat down beside him, and after some silence he found the courage to speak up again.

"Sparrow?"

"Yes?"

"Could... Could I join your Tribe?"

Sparrow thought about it for a moment, then gave him another smile. She liked to smile a lot, he'd noticed.

"Of course, but one condition."

"And that is?"

"Can you please tell me your name?"

Chervil blinked in surprise, realising his mistake, and coughed awkwardly.

"S-sorry. I'm Chervil."

"Chervil... a healing plant, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think I have a place in my Tribe that'll be perfect for you."

Sparrow stood up, and offered him a paw. He looked at it for a moment, then very carefully took it, only to nearly fall over as she pulled him to his feet. The doe steadied him, then laughed a little.

"Sorry, guess I'm a little eager. Come on, it's this way."

She returned to the shadowy leaves where she had first appeared, lifting up one and gesturing for him to follow with the other.

And for once, Chervil didn't hesitate.

End.

[nat13]

Username: nat13
Name: Glacier
Rank: Healer
Proof of level: Level 2
Personality: Glacier is a more subdued, quiet mouse, who's gaze can be described as the intense stare of a predator and has a mysterious mind full of knowledge. Being a food gatherer, he loves to categorize the different plants while scavenging the greenery. He has an extensive erudition for herbage which he picked up while crossing the dangerous mountains alone before coming across the Cliffside Tribe, and as a result knows which leaves, seeds and flowers are tastiest, and even which can help with ailments. He keeps a stash of the most helpful ones in the back of his home for future uses, but never keeps the other edibles away from the rest of the tribe and would never dare steal more for himself. (I used this one before but I’m really set on having my healer with this personality)