Worm had been reading. He still wasn't good at it yet, but he knew enough to follow along when there were also diagrams to aid. But, that didn't matter right this moment, what mattered was the book had given him ideas on how to make colours. Real colours that people could make things with.

The young feline already have a recipient to his work in mind; Imp. Someone kind enough to help him, to feed him and show him to nice Miss Aethril. It certainly helped that Imp was cool. A real artist who had his paintings up in a palace! Which he'd now learned was a very big deal. Though, this did come with an alterior motive, he wanted Imp to teach him to paint too.

He has his pebbles and chalk but it wasn't the same. He'd been practicing hard but there were just parts he didn't understand. So, if he brought something nice to Imp, maybe Imp would show him how and know how much Worm appreciated him! It was a win-win in his eyes.

Even if it meant returning here. His eyes scanned the treelines for a red face, he couldn't shake the feeling of looming danger, of being watched. He didn't dare return to the meadow, even if that's where the best flowers were.

The fear had been proven right once, by that awful creature, but now the fear had been justified it took root. Deep, coiling root that squeezed his heart and lungs, made it hard to breathe, impossible to focus. Just like now. He tried to look at the plants around him, he had an idea of what he needed to find, but he couldn't stop looking over his shoulder. Flinching at every passing shadow, every sway of tree branches. It was here and it was going to get him again!

Its evil has rubbed off on him and now he was cruel too. Worm gasped for a breath, one he didn't realise he was holding as fear froze him. The pathetic noise that escaped him as he ducked onto the forest floor came unbidden. He wanted to go back home. This was a mistake.

No, no. This wasn't a mistake. He wanted to do something nice, something good. Perhaps, a subconscious effort to right all the wrong he'd done lately. Not that he felt guilty about it, of course; he'd been hungry and scared, and all his reactions had been completely natural!

Except, he had felt guilty, crushingly so. No matter how much he told himself he was scared, that he couldn't help it. Something had changed.

Worm slowly worked his way back up to his paws, swaying only minutely as his head swam. It would be just fine. He just had to find his ingredients, then he could leave.

He wove through the trees, not letting the coarse bark brush his sensitive skin, eyes watching the treeline. The paranoia would never vanish, but he felt more grounded after getting some of those miserable feelings out. He could focus on the soil underpaw, the scent of fresh leaves; it was nice. So nice, he almost missed the brightly coloured feather flittering down from the treetops.

The feline did a double take; sure enough, one perfectly intact green feather lay on the dirt next to his paw. After all this searching, it had literally fallen into his lap. Looking upwards, Worm saw the bird, more specifically her backside as she rummaged about her nest, tossing out pieces of dead leaf, snapped twigs and old feathers. It seemed she was doing a spot of spring cleaning.

While Worm gawped at her, another smaller feather flittered down and landed next to the first. A bit too small to use, but still a very pretty green.

He pocketed both the feathers, holding them in his jaws as he skittered away from the bird with his prize!

+2

Once a safe distance away from the bird, Worm couldn't help but preen at his findings. This was going much better now that he had his head out of the clouds. Perhaps, if he was extra lucky, he could find one more ingredient colour. After all, it was difficult to paint with only one shade of one colour...

Yet the longer he spent pacing through the forest, the more and more he was starting to feel turned around. Hadn't he seen that bush before? Wasn't that the same tree with the wobbly branches he'd seen fifteen minutes ago? Shit.

Instead, he sat himself down, taking time to take in his surroundings. It wasn't until he heard the rustling above him and saw the very same bird as before that he realised he'd walked in a complete circle. Well, no more ingredients then. He absolutely did not want to get lost in a place like this.

Luckily, from here he knew which way to head that had his favourite sort of rocks. Soft, white chalk. Perfect for drawing on other rocks if you shaped it a little bit. But he didn't need it for drawing today...

Worm was worried the lights were starting to dim as he reached the small rocky outcrop. But he'd made it before the darkness came for the night, at least. There were a few scratch marks, his own, from where he'd taken small pieces for his own pebble drawings.

It was routine at this point to claw at the soft stone until flakes and chunks crumbled. It was only once a particularly decent-sized lump crumbled off that Worm stopped, watching it with a deep breath. He could do this. It was an easy spell that he'd only failed so, so many times in the past.

Or perhaps his fears were well-founded once more. The magic seeped into the chalk lump, didn't glow and then promptly exploded into a cloud of dust right in the cat's face. Worm blinked a few times, his eyes the only thing saved from the showering of white dust now covering him from head to toe. Though, no doubt, if he hadn't closed them in time, his eyes would be feeling extremely dry about now.

The cat stood frozen in place. The unexpected reaction happened too suddenly; it hadn't even triggered his fight-or-flight, leaving him dazed and utterly still as his brain worked to catch up with what just happened.

Right. Worm blinked once, then twice. Then looked down at his collection of ingredients (now also showered in chalk), light green it was, he supposed. It wasn't as if he was going to spend time wiping all the chalk off.

He tried to recall the steps listed in the book: the feather had to be crushed. Well, thankfully there were plenty of rocks nearby, so he placed the biggest feather on one, then placed a much smaller rock atop it. Paws weren't the most delicate limbs for work like this, but he could get a decent rhythm going, pushing the rock one way, then back the other, until the feather was thoroughly crushed.

Despite the difficulties, the dye wasn't too hard to assemble, not nearly as much as it was a pain to get all the ingredients. His paws were sore, but he had a decent amount of (albeit lumpy) light green dye. Thanks to the chalk, the dye was very gritty and dry, but it was dye nonetheless. As far as Worm knew, at least.

Worm had his gift; now all he had to do was think of a way to butter Imp up even further.

-1 + 1

With his prizes clutched between his teeth, Worm turned his gaze back towards the forest. It had felt pretty good to make something. So much so, he considered just one more... Just one more search and then he'd be on his way. Yes. Just one more...

So without further preamble, he placed his prizes in a safe spot, tucked away in a hole and covered with loose chalk and padded back into the woods. Yes, he could just keep working and keep his mind occupied; he wouldn't need to do things such as sleep or think. It was the perfect way to spend his time.

In such a good mood, he skipped to the first set of berries he set his eyes on and picked them from the branch with his jaws. Some of the berries squished, and he swallowed them without a second thought; it wasn't his first time eating berries. It wasn't something he did often, but they were a nice occasional treat. Ultimately, the berries were too squishy and mushy to be of much use. So with a few of them swallowed, he carried on his merry way.

His stomach made an odd growling noise as he continued back into the woods, but that was probably just because it was almost dinner time. It was nothing to worry about.

The berries were a bust, and the more he walked around, the more his stomach ached, but that wasn't too much of a bother. He'd have supper when he returned and feel right as rain again. And, he still had a few spots he could check.

Like if that bird from earlier had dropped any more colourful feathers out of her nest.

Yet, as he rounded the spot he swore was the very same one, there was no sign of the bird. Not even stray twigs and debris on the floor. He circled around a few times, just to make sure, after all the trees in the woods all looked the same. There was a chance he simply approached the wrong one.

But there was nothing. He couldn't even find anything on the ground or any new birds. The woods had fallen oddly quiet, and his stomach was really starting to hurt now.

Worm sighed and began to head back the way he came. Perhaps he was simply too hungry to focus; after all, he hadn't eaten since breakfast! What a tragedy! That must surely be what was wrong, or maybe he needed a bath? After all, he was still coated in a thick layer of chalk.

It didn't matter the reason; he'd collect his finds and be on his way. He could nurse his empty stomach somewhere much more comfortable than the woods that made him feel watched.

It happened to be when he was digging up his prizes that he stumbled upon the blue rock. It was nestled in the hole he'd made for safekeeping, just at the bottom. It made itself known when the loose dirt was shifted, and its colour shone through. It was pretty, he thought as he pushed his items away to dig it out the rest of the way.

He was beginning to feel clammy and oily; he put it down to exerting himself too much while digging up the pretty rock, but soon he had it in his grasp. One pretty blue rock.

Perhaps he could squeeze in one more try to make something nice before he went home. His stomach hurt too much to think about eating right this moment anyway...

+1

Well, first he needed a new chunk of chalk since he was still wearing the last one. It didn't take much; a little bit of scratching at the soft rock brought a big enough chunk. Yet, he was feeling extremely clammy; was it always so hot here? He couldn't remember. It was making his paws feel sticky, and his skin was sticking to itself at places like his legs and armpits.


He exhaled a shaky breath; no matter, it was fine. It was just a warm season, so he thought the others had sometimes talked about the cave's weather. Though he hadn't expected it to come on quite so quickly...

Moving the chunk of chalk away from the cliff, he wobbily focused his magic. It was hard to direct it when his vision was wavering so much, but soon the chalk had a soft glow; and it hadn't exploded. So lost in the sensations of feeling hot and clammy, Worm hadn't noticed his success at first. Just staring at the piece of chalk blearily.

"Oh," he murmured lamely, before moving the chalk piece to his previous crushing station. Which was still slightly stained with green, but he couldn't find the energy to care.

+1

With the glowing chalk crushed, all he had to do now was crush the rock he found. Which he gingerly placed onto his crushing rocks, stained with glowing white and green. He hadn't removed the baubled chalk, he planned to mix them anyway, so why give himself extra work while he already wasn't feeling so good?

Worm settled into the same position he'd been in for the last dye. Yet as he swayed his weight from side-to-side to grind the ingredients against the rocks, his stomach lurched. It twisted painfully, and that was all the warning he got before he was dashing a short distance away to reacquaint himself with those berries from earlier.

At least once he was done, he felt a lot better than he had before. His stomach still hurt, and he had a foul taste in his mouth, but he didn't feel so nauseous any longer.

In fact, the ordeal of getting rid of the poisonous berries made him feel a little less lethargic, enough to get up and grind up all his ingredients. Though the fear at the back of his head whispering that he almost died would ensure he wouldn't be eating any berries anytime soon.

-1 -1 +1 (G)