Greenleaf was slowly waning into leaf-fall for the prairie. The more delicate flowers began to wither away, replaced by hardier ones, and the burrowing animals began their frantic search for enough food for the incoming leafbare. Among the hustle and bustle, five little kits were tumbling their way through the tall grasses, followed by their ever-patient kit-sitter.
“She said she liked rosemary best,” Cottonkit said as she led the minute march. “That’s what we’re gonna use the most of.”
“Okay!” The four other kits chorused as they followed their sister.
“Don’t forget cinnamon!” Bloomkit added excitedly. “And sage.”
“How are we supposed to get cinnamon bark?” Mockingkit asked quietly. He was following the furthest behind, his ever-sleepy eyes blearily watching his siblings. “It’s only found in the forest.”
“Brightpaw will take us,” Cottonkit replied confidently.
The aforementioned apprentice twitched his whiskers. “I will not. That’s too far away.”
“Why not?” Cottonkit huffed, ignoring the fact that Brightpaw had just told her why not. “Emberpaw would have taken us.”
Brightpaw shook his head and put a paw on the she-kit’s head. “I’m sure he would. But I’m not him, so I’m not taking you. We can just use rosemary and sage.”
“It’s for Bisonheart, so we have to only use her favorites,” Cottonkit argued back. “That means we need cinnamon.”
“Why don’t we get cinnamon from Dandeliontuft and put it in her nest later instead?” Windkit spoke up, carefully speaking around her awkward snaggletooth. “And then we can make her crown from the rosemary and sage. It would be hard to use cinnamon bark for a crown anyway.”
“… fine.” Cottonkit fluffed out her fur but acknowledged her sister was right. “Okay. We’ll go with that idea. Brightpaw, we’ll go to the rosemary patch first. Come on guys, let’s go!”
“Okay!” The other kits called again, pattering after their sister.
Brightpaw laughed lightly and shook his head, but he nevertheless led the gaggle of kits straight to the largest patch of rosemary that he knew about. It was regularly cut back by RavenClan apprentices in order to keep it from overgrowing their paths, and the trimmings were brought back to camp to be used. The scent was sharp and overwhelming in such a large quantity, but the kits barely seemed to notice. They rushed over to the plant with a one-minded determination and began to diligently pluck strands of the aromatic needle-like leaves.
Not too far away from the rosemary shrub was white sage. It was notably less pungent than the rosemary, but still very fragrant. Brightpaw went to work taking as many clippings as he could without damaging the plant. He carefully removed the dying leaves and moved them to a pile of slowly decaying leaf litter, which the apprentices would spread into the plants once it had fully turned to fertilizer, and then brought his gathered sage to the kits.
Soon, every kit had a small pile of herbs, and they formed a little circle. Cottonkit, as always, took the lead. She made a high-pitched chattering noise at the sky and waited for a moment, then she did it again. A black raven swooped down and landed beside the kits. It croaked out, “Hello!”
Cottonkit nudged Mockingkit, who shuffled forward and lowered his body to the raven. “Make…”
“Make,” the raven repeated back.
“Garland.”
The raven inspected the pile of rosemary and sage, cawed a few times, and hopped over to Bloomkit. “Play?”
“Play!” Bloomkit excitedly fluffed up and bounced a couple of times on his paws.
“No play!” Cottonkit cried. “Bloomkit, we’re here to make something!”
“Oh. Right.” Bloomkit guiltily folded his paws beneath him and gave the raven a pleading look. “Make?”
“Make.” The raven mimicked before returning to the herb pile. “Weave.”
“Weave!” Cottonkit perked up. “Garland.”
“Garland. Weave. Then play?”
“Play later.” Mockingkit nodded.
The raven seemed satisfied. It got to work, carefully using its beak and claws to twist and twine the herbs into a circular shape as the kits watched breathlessly. Every once in a while, the raven would mess up and give various curses. At one point, it angrily spat out, “Pendejo,” and the kits echoed the word.
“Let’s not say that one again,” Brightpaw corrected them lightly. He had no idea where the raven learned the word – it wasn’t even using it in the right context – but Spiderwind would give him hell if he let the kits run around saying such things in the nursery.
Duskkit whispered the word again to his siblings, who all giggled, but they didn’t say it again.
Soon enough, the raven finished the garland of herbs. It was wonderfully crafted, the delicate leaves of the rosemary held in place by strips of sage, and it smelled wonderful. The kits oooh‘d and awww‘d over it, and Brightpaw gingerly scooped it up to carry it. “Let’s head back now-”
“Play!” The raven cried, hopping up and down. “Play!”
“Play!” As if all his restraint finally melted away, Bloomkit sprang into the air and hopped at the raven. He wrestled with the feathered friend for a moment before Cottonkit and Windkit also joined, each of them squealing as the raven pecked and poked at each of them before trotting away in order to let the kits chase it. Only Mockingkit and Duskkit stayed back, the former deciding to take a nap instead and the latter just watching calmly. Brightpaw sighed and settled down, watching the kits fondly. They could take the garland to Bisonheart later.
“Keep your eyes closed!” Cottonkit insisted, stretching her little tail up to Bisonheart’s whiskers to help guide her mother through the tunnel.
“I am,” Bisonheart said calmly.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The kits were giggling in a little circle around the little herb garland, watching their mother approach with excited eyes. “Okay!” Cottonkit said, standing straighter. “Bend down.”
Bisonheart did as requested, keeping her eyes closed even as Cottonkit climbed on her face and struggled to right the garland. Eventually, Mockingkit ambled over and corrected it. “You can look now!” Cottonkit announced as Mockingkit helped her off of her mother’s back.
“… what am I looking at?” Bisonheart asked, her voice teasing. “I see nothing but the best kits in the world.”
“Momma!” The five kits chorused.
“It’s on your head!” Bloomkit said excitedly. “We made it!”
“The raven made it,” Windkit corrected quietly.
“Yep!” Bloomkit said excitedly. “The raven helped us make it but we picked all the herbs for you!”
“Brightpaw got us the sage…”
“I know Windkit! But we did the work!”
Windkit didn’t correct her brother again.
“My wonderful little babies,” Bisonheart purred. “I love it.” She gently touched the herbs. “It smells wonderful. Thank you.”