THE DAILY GRIND --* [open]

[IRONCALL]

Ironcall was careful, as he wove his way along the metal beams that made up the shell of this hollow silver tree. It wasn't enclosed like the others, it's supports exposed like ribs. It was one of several that were among the steel tunnels and silver trees here. Very few floors were completed, several in the foundation layers, and then several in the middle, and one toward the top of the structure. Mentors often brought their apprentices here, to train their balance and agility, as well as to hunt the small amount prey that had mad their home somewhere within the tangles of this forgotten silver wasteland.

That was not why the silver medicine cat had made his way here. The upper floors of the tree were constantly open to the sun and rain, and deposited with all sorts of debris from the storms that raged in Greenleaf and Leaf-fall. As such, they were rich with plant life, and several well grown patches of herbs the Medicine Cat found particularly useful.

He had done this many times in his career as a Medicine Cat, as Marbleleaf had used these same patches for their stores long before he was born, and had brought him here regularly throughout his apprenticeship. She had carefully tended the delicate herbs -- several of which grew nowhere else, and ensured that Ironcall and his apprentice, and perhaps the following Medicine Cat apprentice could use them as well. He paid these small meadows the same respect. Despite his comfort with traversing the thick, criss-crossed beams of the tree, he was always mindful his paws, of the brush of his shoulder against a corner. He was hyper-aware of the threat this metal skeleton posed to him, to anyone who wasn't wary. Many, especially in Roseclan and Pineclan seemed to think Redbite a joke, a fairytale that Stoneclan cats told their kits to keep them compliant, but it was more a nightmare.

With no apprentice, he was conscious that just one small mistake could leave his clan in chaos. He was as quick with his ascent as he dared, but ever watchful. When he reached the usual platform of a floor, he stpped carefully onto the thick undergrowth from the beam he traversed. Over the years, the soil and debris blown here, as well as the thin plywood of the floor had become a perfect growing bed for a small meadow of various flowers. Nearest him were the white and yellow heads of a patch of Chamomile, and he checked several of the blossoms for irregularities before moving on. His focus was more toward the shaded side of the floor, where a flapping blue plastic had been strung to block something. It was constantly crinkling -- and very ripped now from the years of wear and tear of the wind, but it still provided a small amount of shade for the purple star shaped flowers that grew beneath it. Borage.

While the plant was heavily used to help new Queens, it was also very effective and reducing fevers, and with the last bought of Mosquito sickness, Ironcall had burned through most of his stores, and had been reduced to a few dry stems. Despite the substantial size of the flower patch he took only as many stems as he needed, mindful that he would need to return later. Then he turned his attention to the small vine-like plants growing amidst most of the others, and carefully plucked some of the strong tendrils from the ground. The flowers had not yet bloomed, this early in the day, but he cared for for the leaves of the Burnet plant that the small flowers. The few that had recovered from the sickness could benefit from the strength these leaves provided, and so he took more than he usually would, and bundled it with his earlier prize.

His intended task finished, he turned back to the beams to make his way down -- perhaps a few floors lower to do some hunting, where he knew he could find perhaps a mouse or two to carry back with his small herb bundle.

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