"Feverfew...Goldenrod...Horsetail...Dock...Marigol d...Feverfew...Wait, didn't I just count those already?"
An averaged-sized Somalia of 34 moons, Mudheart delicately stared at the rows of medicinal herb that were neatly stacked on the rock's crevices. She was crouched right in front of the wall, her pinkish nose barely brushing the rock with her semi-bushy tail wrapped neatly over her front paws. Mudheart then began to mutter the names of the herbs once again - from left to right. She always followed her daily routine of waking at daybreak to count and re-organize the various amounts of herbs.
"Alright. Feverfew, goldenrod, horsetail..."
After another long minute of reciting the herbs, Mudheart sniffled and sprang up with surprising vigor. A soft mroow floated out of her mouth as she padded out of her den. The rays of light spread warmth on her pelt, making her paws tingle. It took all of Mudheart's will not to sprint out of the camp and run to Sunningrocks, where she frequently took her naps. "Maybe I'll just send Barkpaw and Goldenpaw to gather some more herbs whilst I take a nice long nap," she amusingly thought.
Glancing around the deserted camp, her sharp ears caught the yawns and rustlings of the Thunderclan cats as they woke up.
It was going to be another lively spring day.